Liberation
by hippiechick2112
Summary: The seventh and final part of "Her Second Chance", narrated by Colonel Michalovich. Liberation is at hand for the prison camps. But, what other schemes do the Nazis have before the prisoners are finally liberated by the Allies?
1. April 30, 1945

**Her Second Chance: Liberation**

**Note and Disclaimer:**** I'll be saying this every time. I don't own the characters to ****Hogan's Heroes**** nor do I own any of the songs I have posted. I would like to thank those who have created this series and those who have written these great songs. However, the character I have created in this series, Colonel Michalovich, belongs to me, so if you want to use her in any story you wish to write, please email me with permission first.**

**This is, obviously, my final war chapter in story of the Stalag 13 operation. The stage of which the prisoners have anxiously waited for brought much more danger than what was anticipated and more problems occur as they wait to head to England and eventually, home.**

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**Journal of Colonel Nikola Anna Michalovich, U.S. Army: LC8547960  
****April 30, 1945  
****Hammelburg, Germany: Luftstalag 13, The Tunnels – 0145 Hours**

I should be excited about these cold, coming spring days and the drawing end to this long world war. Indeed, through the scant communications we have had with London have indicated that we Allies have won the hostilities. I have no feelings in this revelation. It has passed me over completely though; it's gone over my head. The excitement has not settled into me yet, but has created more and more thoughts about what has been before the war, what we have done during it and what we could be doing when we reach home and the ones we love.

I shudder to almost _think_ what I can do when I step off of that boat and stride, for the first time in a little over three years, on American soil. I don't know who else in this camp could think of such. For the many times that Rob has almost ordered escape from Stalag 13, the men have been energized and even enthusiastic that we were leaving and have kept it in their hearts that one day, after each disappointment and all their hopes dashed, we'd be out of here. We are, after all, in a tricky business on a volunteer basis. And, with us in a prison camp and the Gestapo investigating everything that goes on around Stalag 13, we are truly in a sticky wicket these days especially.

And who can blame the Krauts? For three years, Rob and the others, and by the next year I came along, have wrecked every war haven the Krauts have had and then some. We blew up bridges, ammo dumps, rocket bases, _rockets_ and even oil refineries and radio towers. We have rescued many pilots, civilians, soldiers and agents that have been shot down and/or captured, eliminated those generals and other Krauts that have threatened our operation and gotten rid of a Gestapo takeover of Stalag 13. I have nursed the men here, taken their secrets into my brain and even watched as many comrades and agents die in the name of the Allies Forces and the cause we work for.

Many more of my questions remain as well. Why should I be here and not be those who I watched die? Am I making a difference in this war? What did I do in this war? Has it been much more than I anticipated? How much _did_ we shake the Third Reich?

I have not really thought of all of this until now. My life has been stretched for so long that it's amazing that I have survived a death camp, being shot and numerous missions here. That isn't all that has me worried, though. Sure, Hochstetter can probably catch up to me, Desertstar, and this operation with Rob, Papa Bear. He has his suspicions about the operation we have here, as he always has. Many Gestapo generals and agents have faced their deaths through our hands or their own when they try to meddle with the operation and the Major hasn't heard from them since then. Hochstetter tried to kill Rob almost a year and a half ago, but he failed just as he was going to feel the pinch of promotion with his proof that we were all agents and spies for the Allied Forces.

Things are moving at a rapid pace, besides. I know that the war here in Europe is finishing up its bloody years and even our side had suffered. It isn't just Germany, who has now become the country that is sending old men and younger boys to the fronts. Our side, not suffering as Germany has in both of the world wars, has lost enough men and women through their fights to rid the world of Nazism and the terror in Asia.

The news has been horrific and even somewhat triumphant lately. Today, for example, our radioman Sergeant Baker had just received word from Major Bonacelli, our Italian correspondent who just returned to his native country only a few months ago, that Benito Mussolini, the ruthless Italian dictator, had been executed by his own people. He, his mistress and many others had been hung by their toes and the mobs kept thrashing them over and over again until they were dead. This is about two years after he had escaped from Italy and came back to Germany, only to find much the same pomp and circumstance that he received in 1922's Italy. He went back to Italy all right and was served his just reward for his years of utter chaos and confusion.

Meanwhile, the Americans have lost our wartime president, Franklin D. Roosevelt. Everyone here, even the Russians, British and French, felt this sudden loss, a death on April twelve of this year, to be a blow to morale. Although our new president, Harry S Truman, sounds promising, our charismatic president for twelve years had been all we knew in Depression and this world war.

London radioed frantically those eighteen days ago and announced this piece of dreadful news. Rob acknowledged it, as did every American in camp, and placed his loyalties to the new president immediately. I did so as well, for the strength of our country and of what will come out if the war wouldn't end. Now we all knew it would, and on the eve of victory for the Allies, our esteemed leader vanished from this world as did the many soldiers – boys – he sent here. I am sorry that he is gone, too.

Would the next person to go be Hitler? Rob and I are anticipating this, as this month closes and the bloody streams outside the camp run, dead bodies piling up, put there by the Gestapo (so our investigations have concluded). We know that the Russians are closing in on Berlin. Any day now, they'll be here and we'll be liberated within hours, perhaps days, of this invasion.

Oh, _liberated_…it is such a strange word. What does it mean? Would we be free from this and return home? What are we being freed from, since we have been in and out of camp all these years? Are we being too involved with our obligations, that which has imperiled and saved so many times? Or are we being told that this is the end of the war and our services are no only needed? I don't know. I truly do not know what to call it anymore. I am ready for whatever comes, and it may be Hitler's death soon enough. I _will_ be ready for it.

I am not prepared for this little fact, a little something that I have been carrying, in the utmost shame and secrecy, for a known four months thereabouts. I remember how it had happened, how it came to be and probably which time. I have been hiding this from Rob and everyone else here, but they have suspected something is wrong with me and have been hunting down its answer since I don't give any word as to why. I have been in frenzy as I cannot tell Rob or else it will ruin everything. It can destroy the operation he built, smash the trust he had in me and even have us shot if the Krauts, whose strength is still strong here, discover this. I cannot say which is worse: not telling Rob what it is or keeping it so that he doesn't have to worry with me.

I am pregnant.

There, I wrote it in simple black and white words. I am to have a child in August or September, I think. It is a long story, and of so many broken promises we've kept to ourselves and the thought in mind of the first child we lost so long ago. I didn't think much of it, and neither did Rob, as we remained in the more physical aspect of our relationship. You know it resumed back in October on that day in the supply room in the tunnels, when it collapsed and some feeling came back in the strangest way. Then November brought so much turmoil outside the camp. There was silence and no mission assignments from London. It was too tempting because twelve years is much too long to _do_ anything. We were all but stuck here, with no word from Headquarters and heading down a long, winding road of which now, there is no backing out of.

I'm not going to dwell on these thoughts. I just can't. It has been thirteen years since the last child and I just cannot think of what will happen if we lost this one child to war, my death or even the same way as the last. No, I have to stop this now. Yes, our child will live and thrive, and because the war is ending, I think that Rob and I can leave Germany married, just as we promised each other, and ready for a new life in America. Whether we'll be off on our own again or living with Sally is still a question in the air. I _still_ don't know _when_ I can tell _anybody_ about this, though. My little secret can be my undoing, and everyone else's for that matter.

~00~

I can truly say that I have had the time of my life here, a unique experience. I never imagined that we'd all be here and that so many people I have known are dead and that many things have been discovered here. I have learned to accept these war losses in time, no matter how panicky I can get when the unexpected happens. I have dealt with my neck, which has always indicated me the danger and lies that surround me, and listened to it more and it doesn't matter to me how ridiculous it sounds. I have even successfully kept this child a secret from everyone.

I know that people here imagine that there is something wrong with me. I was tired, _very_ tired, in the beginning trimester and couldn't get out of my bunk most of the time. For a while, I would just sit in the Colonel's quarters and listen to the coffeepot, torturing myself with Klink's voice and those that came into his office. Physically, my joints swelled up noticeably and still are. Before, and sometimes even now, the smell and taste of food makes me sick, something I know Rob worries about (now, it is more the case that I eat more). I also hide from the prisoners more here and have limited my missions, mostly opting to mind the fort. If necessary and _only if_ the group we are dealing with only knows me, then I'd go. Otherwise, I protect myself.

Rob still can't get anything out of me. I know that he tries to read this journal and its piled-up volumes in my footlocker. I have been unable to write for months now, in fear that if I wrote anything, then he'd know and I'd be lectured relentlessly. I have been carrying this journal around for a while too, remembering all-too-well of the night I killed General Schruss because of his threats of those I considered dear to my heart and the operation here. I reread what I have done and thought of what a monster I was. I have killed Krauts randomly on missions if it was necessary but never knew them as I did with Schruss. Rob, too, did so, on numerous missions not counting his missions in the air. But, how can I explain that to our child? For that matter, can I _ever_ explain Auschwitz and what it meant to the people who lived, worked, cried and died there?

There is too much to think about this early morning. I have already written too much and poured out many sorrows and deep secrets that could be read at any time. I should head back to my bunk now and try to sleep off these problems, most of which cannot be fixed, but forgotten if only for a while. Schultz is doing a routine bedcheck at 0300 hours and if I'm not there, then they'll be a mad scramble to distract the Kraut guards and _then_ a mad search in the tunnels for me. And this doesn't include getting me and the search party up and out of the tunnels.

Wait, the entranceway to the tunnels collapsed, and there are voices, not German. Who can they be and what are people doing in this profane hour? Who'd want to look out here anyway?


	2. Back in the Barracks

**Later – Dawn  
****The Barracks – 0620 Hours**

It is after roll call now and of course, I am safe from disaster. It was only Baker that came down to the tunnels. Rob had woken up just in the nick of time, before the nightly bedcheck from Schultz, and in noticing that I was missing, ordered that the men search for me. He knew that I wasn't with the Krauts because there was no noise outside, but had to check every nook and cranny around the barracks before thinking of dressing back in his uniform and disturbing Klink.

I know that Rob is in horror and he should calm down. But even in the hush of the evening and early morning, the Krauts can come in and take away any prisoner and for him, that is reason enough for dread and alarm.

And I had reached my bunk before Schultz noticed that I was gone, like a good little girl! Baker and LeBeau had found me, afraid, with my journal in one hand and a weapon (it was the pistol I kept in my boot at all times) in the other. I was about to shoot, but I saw their faces before pulling the trigger. "Whoa, hold it there, Colonel!" Baker yelled. "It's just me and LeBeau!"

And indeed it was him and LeBeau, both holding guns and their lanterns. The tunnels were dim and without much light and I was scared of who might be there. It was a precaution.

"I'm sorry, you two," I said with LeBeau scuffing at my remark. "You can never be careful these days."

"Yes, you can be more careful, Colonel!" Rob authoritative voice sounded all through the tunnels (he was yelling above the open bunk). "Get yourself up there before Schultz does." That was all I heard.

Shrugging my shoulders, I gave in to Baker and LeBeau and followed them up the ladder silently with my journal in one hand and my pistol back in my boot. I was careful not to reveal anything and I am grateful that I didn't feel sick at that moment or it would have ruined everything.

I thought more of Rob's anger then. When I climbed into my bunk he was already in his and turned to the other side, his back to me, angry most likely. I think it was more that Rob was upset that I had snuck down to the tunnels at such a critical time of the war – its ending – and had frightened him and the men because I was missing. The people holding us inside this camp are getting antsy and are watching us much more carefully than before, but oh, no, there can't be a little privacy down in the tunnels, where most of the time, I write anyhow. Klink is still proud of his no-escape record and if he keeps it up (mostly us recording taps on people who have come and gone) then we'd all succeed in this operation, and if not…

I can't think of this now. The firing squad should be far from my thoughts.

I know that tomorrow we have yet another mission: to destroy a fuel depot. It's also just another meeting with a beginners' Underground unit. We are to work with them on such this mission and show them the ropes even though it is the end of the war. London had ordered that.

~00~

I found Rob going through my footlocker this morn, before I started writing, and I was wondering, _WHY is he doing this again?_ He is always curious about me, and I allow him to go through anything in there, like view the pictures on the bottom with me so we could laugh (on top of every volume of this journal I have written) and do anything he wishes. He lets me do the same, but I have never had the courage to do so. We do, however, share a few laughs once in a while and I _should_ anticipate him reading anything I write, because I have shared my life with him for seventeen years, since 1928. Almost twenty years have passed since I first saw him during that snow storm, and even to this day, I love him.

This is why I am protecting him from this. He has a right to know about his child. He doesn't need to know _now_, though. It is a danger! It is worse that the damned German army knows about our relationship, something I KNOW Burkhalter slipped out "accidentally" at a dinner party possibly, a few years ago. Klink knows and I think he figured from the moment I stepped in here to the time I screamed at him for allowing the men in Barracks 10 to make way for me. He can put two and two together and calculate the equation, amazing as it is.

~00~

It's about four more days until the second anniversary of Nancy's death. Much as last year, when I was working on Operation Overlord (partially, in a way), I dreaded this day more than anything else in the world. I had to face it alone…that day last year, before I went to blow up a bridge with Kinch and LeBeau, I placed some little white flowers I found in the woods on the shallow grave she was dug out of, where she was shot. I found out that day that she was ordered to dig her grave, to say her prayers and to bid a goodbye to life altogether. Even before she finished her grave, she was shot, by Hochstetter most likely. And then Kinch was gone only a year and some months later…

I try to find strength in the words that I have always written, words that comfort me because they are the altar ago of what I was thinking and feeling. These words of all styles come and go, are crossed out and hidden away. Now, I can only think of these as LeBeau is starting to serve breakfast…and he can wait to give me a plate.

"Nikki, don't you ever know your manners?" Rob just joked, coming out of his office to see that food I being served. He came up from behind me, laughing.

"Yes, but there is always a time to do this, and then a time to think about your stomach," I just replied, avoiding the embrace that Rob was trying on me. The men laugh, of course, but Rob is apprehensive about me pushing him away like that as he has been for the last month and a half. He knows that I need special comfort right now, all in good deed of course, but he has _no_ idea what he's in for in four or five months. If he knew about all this, then I'd be in deeper trouble and it's not the Krauts I'm thinking of presently.

I have to stop writing. Breakfast of potato soup (since it's been so cold lately) has been served. Water and potatoes are all we have at present and LeBeau is furious about this.

"How is a Frenchman to cook with only water and potato rations?" LeBeau asked as the prisoners complain again about the food. There aren't any supplies in the tunnels either since London has been much too busy to airdrop anything as of late. I knew that it said something, other than they were busy, but leaving us starving for food isn't my idea of a deal. Sure, we work for you and in return you have no supplies.

Rob is thinking that he should bother Klink with this later. However, we all know that Klink is up to his knees with rumors, phone calls and paperwork, thinking of his grand speech for when the Allied tanks roll in and some puny teen-ager points some gun at him and tells him to move. And everyone knows, even Schultz, that the Allies have won the war. There is no doubt in anyone's mind that our side has won the world war. It is the end of the imperious Nazi Germany.

_We starve, look at one another short of breath  
Walking proudly in our winter coats, wearing smells from laboratories  
Facing a dying nation of moving paper fantasy  
Listening for the new told lies with supreme visions of lonely tunes_

_Somewhere inside something there is a rush of greatness  
Who knows what stands in front of our lives?  
I fashion my future on films in space  
Silence tells me secretly everything, everything –_


	3. Scratched Mission

**May 1  
****The Motor Pool – 1457 Hours**

Rob has, especially after I wrote that thought last, been watching me more carefully since yesterday. At least I haven't told him yet, but my secret is out in the open finally, even if it was only to a few people. And some of these people are here right now, enjoying the sunshine and washing and waxing Klink's staff car. We're having some warm weather today, compared to recent rain storms and chilly roll calls.

Oh! I'm getting wet. Newkirk and Carter often have water fights and being near them might be considered slightly dangerous with the soap and water. I'm laughing with _and_ at them and am trying to forget what has happened in the tunnels earlier this morning after roll call. It wasn't just that my secret was revealed to some of the men. It was more of the message that was sent that scared me.

Breakfast yesterday had, obviously, stopped me from writing more. I should have stopped LeBeau from forcing me to eat when he was serving and I had no chance in the argument. He's as persistent as Rob is and will always get his way when it comes to the food. Writing is soothing to me and the uneasiness in this potential mission tonight is no exception to this, so there is no point in eating all the time…for the time being, at least.

Now, thinking about this, I am trembling to write mostly because of the message we had received from the new Underground unit this morning. So, much as I like to say that this journal calms me down, I couldn't _dare_ to write about the incident from the day before. My neck was hurting and no one is listening to me when I said that this was going to be a trap except for those who hit the target of the danger.

Baker, as always, took the message and handed it to Rob. All six of us were down in the tunnels as Baker said there was a message from the new Underground group: Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau, Baker, Rob and me. Baker was a bit shocked (his interest in the message had a surprising peak) as he handed over the note. Rob just raised his eyebrow.

"What does it say, Sir?" Carter asked as Rob started reading it.

"Blimey, Andrew, let the Colonel read it!" Newkirk exclaimed.

"Wait," Rob said, putting his hand up for silence before answering. "The new unit asked that instead of the five of us going that only I and someone else come along to destroy the fuel depot with them."

"Why would they change their minds so quickly?" LeBeau asked, moving forward. "They said that they needed all the help that they could get and London ordered us to accompany them."

"There could have been a security breach," Rob said, "and they didn't want to risk the five of us planting the bombs at the fuel depot. The fewer the men, the less the detection we're going to have. It's also less men caught and interrogated by the Gestapo. However, if that were so, then the mission would have been scrapped."

My knees suddenly felt like buckling, but I kept myself standing straight. My entire midsection had been pushed back through some handy-dandy tight clothes I ripped up, giving me the appearance that I was gaining weight, but it still gave a suspicious air to the camp. It made me feel dizzy and the baby kept moving about, kicking me.

When I was trying to keep myself conscious and the quick wave of nausea down, I heard Newkirk say, "Might I said, Colonel, that I do not 'ike this one bit. I think the Gestapo is out there." My neck prickled when he said that and then I knew that Newkirk was right: this is a trap.

"Rob, we're going to be ambushed if you go on with this mission," I said suddenly after that. The five in the radio room then gave all of their attention to me. I felt myself blush swiftly and my struggle to keep myself as normal as possible proved invisible as I felt my feelings change from sick to embarrassed.

Oh, damn, how I went too far! I usually addressed Rob by his given rank, but never by first name, _ever_. He, however, has done the same except when the mood has him wanting me to see something that he does. Usually, that is the time when I'm being stubborn and am on a course of reckless action, of which he thought that I was doing when I said that.

When the surprise died down in the next minute, Rob slowly asked (as if I were some idiot), "Why do you think that, Colonel?"

Fighting back another wave of nausea (it came back as soon as my embarrassment subsided), I said with a tinge of jitters in my voice (sounding as if I had too many cups of coffee), "This does tell us a few things. True, they might fear that the Gestapo is watching them. Then again, we have no information about this particular group. London has given nothing and they, too, have admitted that they have not given up any information about themselves. The group is only run by a brother/sister team that London cannot even see anything wrong with. They have not been dangling themselves with German politics, so they think."

I sighed, "On the other hand, their lack of confidential and credits might be a good thing. Nobody knows who they are, so it is harder to track them. Both of them live right near Gestapo Headquarters in Mainz and many people think that it is a good sign that they wouldn't dare defy Germany and its rise…or immediate downfall, I should say now. But the dangers outweigh whatever good that could be said about them. I agree with Newkirk. I say that we should stay here tonight."

"I say that we should, too," Carter said immediately after me.

"Oui, I vote that we stay here tonight," LeBeau said.

"Colonel Michalovich has a point, Colonel Hogan," Baker said defiantly, the first time ever. "This could be a trap." He didn't indicate which side he was on, like the others, but it was clear to me that Baker was defying one colonel and favoring the other because of the possible consequences of going out later in the evening.

Newkirk was triumphant that he suggested the counterattack against Rob to me, so was giving me a smug glare. Rob wasn't having any of it, however. "But what about the mission tonight?" he asked, almost defeated, as his men crowded to my side.

"I know that this isn't a democracy, but an operation on the direct order basis," I said, fighting the next sea of nausea attacking my boat again. "I have the certain feeling that this is truly a trap from the Gestapo. If you want, I can personally radio the message to London myself and tell them the mission has been scrapped."

Rob sighed, resigned. "You're right," he said, crossing his arms. "This has been way too skeptical in detail and I should have thought it over more carefully. It's my fault."

"It happens to the best of us, especially me," I said, forcing a smile to come back to my face. "Why don't I do that message now?"

"Yes, you'd better get going on it if you want London to forgive us," Rob said, his voice full of mischief at the moment. "Baker can help you. London has a new code to get through to. Maybe an explanation could tone them down too."

Rob's brown eyes twinkled as they did when he was up to something and I knew that he was going to pull something later on, so I had better be alert and ready for whatever he has coming to me. I felt closer to him ever since that night in the supply room in the tunnels, but ever since I have been carrying this secret, I've calmed down. I have played with him a lot more, laughing at his jokes instead of scorning them (the men think this is funny too) and even mouthing off more. Olsen, who often has been sitting with me when we spy on the Krauts, commented to me one day when I was at his barracks that I should have joined the Navy instead of the Army.

"Why?" I asked as I averted my eyes to the other direction as Schultz was coming our way outside. The window was open, to let in some fresh air as the afternoon was warm for once, and the chattering always was limited when this happens. Mostly, the windows stay closed because of the cold.

As soon as the danger had passed, Olsen said, "Ma'am, with all due respect, you have a nastier mouth than all of the men here put together."

I laughed with the remaining men in there and was still smiling as I recalled that moment only a month ago, asking Baker at the present time to move over so that I could talk to Baby Bear and to give me the new code, of which he did. Baby Bear seems to be drunk most of his time on-duty, but has been faithful and sending our unique messages to the Head and letting them decide what to do with our problems.


	4. A Secret is Revealed

At the same time I asked Baker to move, the tunnels' entryway collapsed and down came, quite literally, Wilson, Kerens and Titan. The three of them were trying to keep a poker face, but I could see that something was amusing to them.

"Blimey, gentlemen, what happens to be funny today?" Newkirk asked.

"Well," Kerens started to say, but a fit of giggles stopped him. The bunk above him closed as someone tapped it shut.

"What he 'eans to say is that…oh, damn!" Titan was overcome with the tragic case of the hysterics too.

Wilson was also laughing, but he kept a better composure than his friends. He did manage to say, "Kerens and Titan here were telling me about something that just took place down here."

Baker was able to turn the knobs and connect me to London when he asked the trio, "Does it happen to have anything to do with Colonel Hogan being overridden?"

Everyone, myself included, were rolling their eyes as the three men burst into another eruption of laughter. It was much harder to concentrate on this message than what I thought and the reason for this break was irritating me. I think being ill had quite a ways to do with my anger at that time, but I snapped as I put in the headset, "Will you three kindly quiet yourselves? That's an order!"

The room was quiet. I relished this and didn't feel a pinch of guilt for being angry with them and continued with what I was assigned to do. Baby Bear came on momentarily with a yawn (I could almost _smell_ the alcohol on his breath). "Baby Bear, this is Desertstar. Do you read me?"

"I hear you loud and clear, old lady," Baby Bear said loudly after another obnoxious yawn, causing me to wince, pulling the headset away from my ears for a minute before putting them back on. _Yes, he is definitely smashed today_, I thought as I said, "Tell the Head that tonight's rendezvous with the pair has been cancelled because of some well thought-of cautions."

There was silence on the other end of the board, so I repeated this message in case he didn't hear me. Baby Bear did hear me, but it was more of shock and to prove this, he said before I said it a third time, "Desertstar, we hear you. General Alburtis is here and has demanded why this was not going to happen. He's quite…peeved about it, old lady."

I sighed. I have dealt with Alburtis so many times that I'm personally tired of him and his demands on why we are not heading into danger. He doubted my claims about Hansel and Gretel. He didn't believe Rob when he said that Panzers were going to France. And finally, we have this. "Just tell him that there is too much blocking the way and to radio the duo. Tell them that it's done with and to schedule some other time," I said. "Desertstar is over and out."

I switched off the radio before any Gestapo could catch us or said general can order us to accept the mission as is. I didn't need Alburtis ordering me over shortwave and telling me to undergo this mission nonetheless.

"Colonel, you have guts," Titan said, his obviously large muscles showing through his uniform. His appearance certainly lived up to his name.

"I also happen to have the strength to battle them," I said, getting up from the chair. I didn't realize that this was going to tire me out. The sick feeling that I had pushed away just previously came back and so did the darkness. I passed out for a split second.

All seven men were concerned enough for me, but didn't yell for help, as if they knew something had to be kept secret. Before _I_ knew it Wilson was all over me, asking me over and over again, as I woke up, if I could hear him. I did, and said as I got up, "If you'd move aside, I'd be able to get on my feet again." And I was able to.

All seven men still stared at me as I made my way to the ladder, but then I heard Kerens. "Ma'am, everyone has known that you have been a bit stir-crazy these past few months. What's wrong?"

I was just about to put my foot into the first rung and run off and escape this. However, I knew that it was also unfair that I leave these men in the dark. It was justified enough to tell them, but then if they told Rob…?

I turned back to face them. Before I could say anything, LeBeau dragged over a chair and demanded that I sit down, with Wilson agreeing that it'll be best that I rest for a while before going back up. I accepted this and sat down next to the radio. The seven men then looked to me with the story.

They had to promise me something first, but promises can be broken, so I made it an order, a rare occurrence. "All right, men," I said, sighing. "This is a nippy little story and something we should all we worried about in the next few months. I wish to have you promise me this, but since all mouths and ears can be pressed against these walls right now, I can only order that you all faithfully keep this to yourselves. I especially do not want Colonel Hogan to know about this because it involves him wholly."

I stopped and heard the reassuring phases that told me that they would keep this shut up. It was a grueling silence afterward and it was fueled on by my hesitation. It was Carter who told me to tell them, in his own strange way, what the problem was. I sighed again and before the next person could say anything, I said, more like whispering so that nobody could hear me, "I'm pregnant."

"WHAT?" was the initial reaction from all seven men, all at the same time too. All of them started jabbering in their shocked postures, saying how unsafe it was for me to be here at Stalag 13 and that I should leave here at once.

I put my hand up. The baby kicked me hard, so it was hard to keep a straight face. "I know that this is unbelievable," I said, removing some of my uniform and showing my belly off to prove it, "and that it's plain dangerous. Listen, all of you: the war is going to be over soon. I know it. I don't know, however, if it'll be done in the next few weeks, days, months…who can tell? I can tell for a fact though that it'll be done soon and we'd all be sleeping soundly at home. This," I indicated my bulging belly, "will be safe. There is no doubt in my mind that the baby will be fine. I'm only hoping that I can tell his father soon."

"And who's that?" Carter asked stupidly.

Newkirk slapped his head and said, "Andrew, who else could it be?"

I smiled, laughing. "Yes, all because I have some great legs," I joked, tucking my uniform back in and carefully edging it so that it was just as before. The baby kicked me back in protest of this treatment, but it was for his or her wellbeing that I push him back.

"What are you doing to do now?" LeBeau asked.

"Wait out the end of the war," I said. "It's about all I _can_ do. Of course, I've always been bad at timing everything."

With that, I got up again and went back to the ladder. By the time I started climbing, though, the entranceway collapsed again. "I'd thought you all weren't coming back," Rob's voice echoed down the tunnels. "Is everyone all right? I heard some yelling. Did Baby Bear acknowledge what we were doing?"

"Yes," Baker answered for me (and lying about what was going on). "We all have to wonder if he had too much to drink again last night."

"I think we'd all be when this war is over," Rob said as he helped me up out of the ladder.

Behind me, seven men, all ordered to keep this dirty secret shamefully stored away, made their own way up the ladder, not bothering to follow me as I went out the door and walked around the camp. All of them didn't look as grim as they did before when I stood up to tell the truth and whisper those two words, nor did they show their shock at something as outrageous as what I have said. And yet, they have not said an utterance or otherwise I would have known by now either in the form of a firing squad or a lecture from Rob. I would most certainly welcome the latter, no matter how irate he'll be about it. Or will he celebrate? I could never know, as I have wanted to wait for the right time, the end of the war, to tell him. However, it seems so far away…

I think I'll visit Nancy's dug-up grave tonight. That spot has always saddened me even though she isn't physically there anymore (I was determined to ship her home). It is also the same spot that has given me the strength to ask those silent inquiries of what I can do and what I can possibly say about this. I am not glad, though, that I had to share that ghastly secret with the men. The burden is going to be passed on to them and it almost feels as if a weight is off of my shoulders. Damn, I can hardly say the same when it comes to my belly.

Speaking of the devil, here comes Rob. It's 1640 hours and there still hasn't been a single word from the Head. Even the pair we were to have worked with tonight hasn't radioed a word. I agreed with Newkirk and said we should have stayed here tonight. I think, sooner or later, we'd be in bigger sticky wicket than a court martial. My neck is already telling me that not only are the Gestapo involved, but when I thought of them coming here, a cold sweat down my neck breaks out. I wish that I am wrong, oh, how I wish that I am wrong about this one feeling…


	5. Worries

**May 2  
****The Colonel Quarters – 0700 Hours**

I was right, I was right, I was right! Major Hochstetter is here and I am trembling to write…it is tough to put this pen to the paper, dammit! Writing, as I've said so many times, has calmed me down, but this time, this…oh, Rob has been taken from the Gestapo once more. Hochstetter came in earlier this morning and he came with those agents that we were supposed to have worked with last night. So, they have come here instead of us going to them.

We were right when the Gestapo was involved with them. As usual, most had disbelieved this and even Rob questioned me. Now they're here and I'm ordered to stay here in the barracks. The men do not share this sentence with me and do come in often to check on me. Most of the men have figured what was wrong with me and the seven men that were with me just the day before hushed them into submission. The secret has to be kept as it (unspoken) and cannot be spoken about.

I am regretting this decision already. I know that the Gestapo is torturing Rob for any kind of information and if they…_kill_…him, then our baby has no father. And I will never forgive myself for keeping this little fact from his or her father, even when he was sent to the cooler for major interrogation and agony.

Roll call…it had seemed to be light years ago. It was only an hour ago, when this madness started. Yesterday had been a normal day. The day was warm and the sun was out. Water fights were everywhere and the men were relaxing and enjoying themselves. Today, the weather was overcast and grey. By the time Schultz woke us all up at 0530 hours (a little early, I think), there was complaining about today and the day before. "To every silver lining, there is a touch of grey," I said jokingly as we got out of bed that morning. Rob was grinning at me and laughing.

I heard Schultz's familiar voice booming in the barracks at 0530 hours and the familiar chime of prisoners complaining that we were to get up and not when roll call was signaled.

Rob rolled over in his bunk, moaning, and asked, "What did the war bring to our doorstep today?" Hearing me comment about the day ahead, Rob laughed as hopped out of his bunk with yesterday's uniform on, straightened himself out and put on his colonel's hat and bomber's jacket, heading out the door and seeing what was going on. Rob laughed again as he went out the door and I took this as the indicator to dress quickly. I did with much protest, as usual.

At about 0550 hours, I came out to find that Klink and Schultz were arguing with Rob about the hours of sleep the prisoners are allowed, when we can come out for roll call, etc. I sighed, joining Morrison, Baker and Newkirk at the table as Rob and the Krauts battled at the doorway, letting in the chillier air. 0600 hours had obviously brought out all of the men from every barrack to continue in this tradition called roll call. _That_ was when the trouble began.

With much grumbling, sleepy men who didn't bother to get out of their bunks earlier were roused from their drowsy slumber and ordered to move out into the foggy morning so that they can be counted like cattle. It was the standard routine: getting up, dressing, perhaps shaving and heading out to look our best for Klink and those who wanted, or even dared, to come through the Main Gate. The morning didn't show any visitors so it was easier for the group here to have a simple day. There might be a message from London indicating that we are to have a court martial when we return or perhaps we're going to receive another message on the mission last night from that brother/sister team.

Who would know that, within the fog, it was my next nightmare? Who could tell that the Gestapo was behind the bombing of the fuel depot all along?

The battle for more sleep ended eventually and roll call went on as usual. Schultz was telling our grumpy Kommandant Klink that we were all present and account for as it has been for the time I have been here except those missions we have had to ask for a prisoner escape. Klink saluted back, stepping forward to tell us about the behavior of the men here when we all heard a black car coming up through the Main Gate and parking near Klink's office.

It was Hochstetter, with his guards, who had come out of the car, with a woman and man, both looking alike. Hochstetter was storming up to Klink and he whispered something in the Kommandant's ear.

Klink was abashed about the comment obviously and was about to protest about his no-escaping record, but MajorHochstetter silenced him, saying, "Klink, don't you recall this morning's phone call?"

The man and woman came behind the angry Hochstetter, staring around at the men around the camp. It was clear to me that they had seen most of the camp and were searching for someone because their eyes were not as curious as a newcomers' are. When the woman spoke, I knew, then and there, that she was the sister part of the team that we were to have worked with last night. She pointed to our barracks, asking no one in particular, "Can I see that man over there?" I knew that she was pointing to Rob. I knew that was who she was looking for and that was also what Major Hochstetter wanted.

I saw Hochstetter smiled and he gestured for a Gestapo guard behind him to grab Rob. The order was finished: the guard came to our barracks, brutally grabbing Rob and dragging him back to Hochstetter, hitting him in the back of the head so that he could move faster. I heard some scraps about Rob being the man they wanted and there was intensity in my neck…

I had to stop them.

When I saw that Klink and Schultz were not doing a thing to stop Hochstetter from taking Rob to the cooler for interrogation, I decided to step in. I must have looked determined at the moment for Newkirk said to me, "Gov'ness, don't think about it."

"I can't let them take him," I said with clenched teeth. I dared myself to walk forward just as Hochstetter ordered that Rob be condemned to the cooler for interrogation.

I said, waving my hand for their attention as I stood in front of the Krauts, "Major Hochstetter, what evidence do you have that this man is who you are looking for?"

"The leader of the operation is always the head of the prisoners," the brother said.

"And Colonel Hogan is who we are looking for," the sister said…purred more like. _Damned slut_, I thought._ She's worse than I am._

Gritting my teeth again, I said, "But you have never seen him, have you not? How would you know him to be some leader of an operation not heard of here?"

Both brother and sister stole a glance at each other. Both were then looking very doubtful if they had the right man because of my point. Hochstetter, as always, was livid at me and showed it clearly through the vein on his forehead. Always the positive one in their side of the situation, he said, "Colonel Michalovich, this is Gestapo business. Leave now."

Hochstetter then snapped his fingers, allowing the guard nearby to have his fun with Rob. Standing straight with the guard to his side at one moment, Rob was doubled over with pain as the guard took his gun and slammed it to his side the next.

I flinched at this brutality, giving all Hochstetter what he needed. I didn't mean to do it and have been good about controlling my feelings. But that day, _this_ day, I had to be a woman and acknowledge Rob as someone I cared about deeply. The men behind me, as they did, can yell all they wanted. My reaction was the most critical to Hochstetter. It was enough evidence.

Stabbing Rob again with his gun, the guard kicked Rob and urged him to move on to the cooler. With all of his strength (I knew that it took a lot of it), Rob got up and took a last glimpse at me before he walked straight to the cooler: to his death in the hands of the Gestapo.

Hochstetter was smiling, Klink and Schultz were in misery and the brother and sister team grinned, finally convinced that they had their man because Hochstetter was a confident person, reassuring them of their decision to capture him. And I could do was stand there and stare. I couldn't do anything for Rob.

After a few moments of silence, of _torture_, I couldn't take it anymore.

"You can't do this!" I screamed like a child, watching Rob being pushed to the cooler. I then started screaming at Hochstetter, citing rules of the Geneva Convention (listening in to Rob so many times helps), stating that no prisoner can be tortured with such fashion unless he were condemned with the proper evidence and even in that case, there should be an investigation.

I felt Newkirk and LeBeau pull me back before Hochstetter _thought_ of shooting me (he was sorely tempted to, I am sure), but I shoved them back. Just as I was going to state an important article from said Geneva Convention about proper interrogations, Hochstetter pulled out his gun, as did Klink's sentries, of which two were posted side by side with Hochstetter.

"I've had enough of this nonsense and games, Colonel!" Hochstetter said as he aimed towards my heart. "You keep out of this Gestapo business –"

"It isn't the Gestapo's business to take an innocent man to torture!" I replied hotly.

"But it is within my right to confine you to your quarters," Klink said with such strength and an equal intensity. "You shouldn't be insulting a German officer."

"What difference does that make to me?" I stridently screeched, on the edge of showing my hidden emotions. "We are all enemies of this damned German Nazi Kraut State –"

Our poor guard, Schultz, was shocked and came forward, pushing me where LeBeau and Newkirk waited for me, outside the formation. He didn't want me hurt as the others did, but he also knew the limit Klink and Hochstetter have. If I had said another word, he knew that I was going to be shot and he didn't want that. Plus, it also didn't help when Rob was in the cooler for the reasons that it wasn't getting him _out_ of there.

Schultz was even kind enough to escort me back to the barracks with the others. He was making a demonstration for Hochstetter, showing him that he, too, can be ruthless and have the prisoners obey him. An unloaded gun to my back, put there as the formations went inside the barracks, indicated that I went too far, even by Schultz's standards, and I realized it by the time I was in the doorway of the barracks with the other prisoners.

Shutting the door behind us prisoners, Schultz addressed me as if I was the child I was acting just a few minutes previously. "Colonel Michalovich, you could have been SHOT."

"You knew about this!" I accused him, turning around and facing Schultz, and continuing my puerile behavior. All rhyme and reason had left me again and my mind was under the control of the sadness, anger and depression I had sought to keep hidden.

Newkirk and LeBeau were fighting to keep my temper down, but it was to no avail to them. I saw that Baker went out the door behind Schultz. All these things didn't matter to me. I went on raving like a madwoman.

I screamed more. "Schultz, you _knew_ that Major Hochstetter was coming to torture Colonel Hogan. You _knew_ that there was no way to stop them and that –" I stopped and lost my thoughts. A sobbing took over, and before I knew it, I was crying at Schultz's feet. I never meant that all of this to happen and I didn't want to hurt our guard. It went farther than I wanted it to.

Again, I felt LeBeau and Newkirk's arms behind me, consoling me. Above me, I heard Schultz talk, but all the words I heard was, "…I was trying to be a good German soldier…"

"By doing what, Schultz?" asked Wilson. I heard the door open as I cried. Wilson and Baker had popped right back into the barracks.

Wilson questioned Schultz more as he came in to close the door. "Do you think that by letting your government agents hurt an innocent man that you're doing your duty to your country? Where does your loyalty stand?"

"I-I-I-I d-d-didn't mean to –" Schultz started.

"Of course you didn't," someone said (I didn't hear who). "You could have warned us though, as you've done so many times."

The conversation went on, an argument from the prisoners and Schultz about what could have been done. By then, my crying had started to recede. I couldn't breathe and worst of all, I couldn't move or get up to walk. I heard someone talk again, close to me. Wilson was right next to me, checking my clothes and especially my belly without Schultz seeing as we were still at his feet. He said something to Carter and Newkirk, the two obeying the order from Wilson. It was to move me back to the quarters before anything else can happen to me.

"This has been enough to unnerve her for another two years," Wilson said as I felt my dead weight being carried (Carter taking me by the arms and Newkirk taking my feet). "It's a wonder that she didn't do this a long time ago."

All I remembered after this was being put into my bunk. And after about half an hour of blackness, I started to write, this journal hiding in its place under my pillow. Wilson and Carter are in here still, watching me and asking if I'm still all right. I think I am, but my heart feels cold. I should have done something more. Reason had never worked with Hochstetter and just screaming everything that I had felt for the past three years is enough to condemn Rob to an early grave. I should have lightly protested and moved on as I did that first Christmastide I was here, in this hellhole called Stalag 13.

"You couldn't have saved him, Ma'am," Carter just said. It was as if he had read my thoughts.

Wilson smiled and said after him, "Carter's right, Colonel. Colonel Hogan has a chance with those goons. He's a strong and stubborn man. There is always that hope –"

"That I'd never tell him he was going to be a father!" I'm starting to shed more tears again. This journal is getting wet so I had better stop. It is obvious that writing about this again has opened more wounds and thinking about Rob, hurt or dead, in the hands of Hochstetter's mean will agitate it more. The soothing alter ego has been shattered by this and there is no comfort on the other side.

_I tried so hard to say goodbye…_


	6. Colonel Hogan Returns

**May 4  
****The Colonel's Quarters – 2123 Hours**

Hochstetter left us at this time yesterday and Rob had been returned to us at the time he left, frustrated and swearing about us prisoners of the Allied Forces. Rob is _alive_ though. He came back, with Schultz, unconscious and _alive_, but barely.

I can even remember the time that he came back to us. I was in the Colonel's quarters. Wilson was saying I looked much better than before and not to push my belly back like I've been doing these past few months to hide what's really behind. "Colonel, that's one of the reasons why you're passing out like this," he said. "It's unhealthy for you."

"_This_ is going to save two lives," I said with my arms crossed. I was perched on the edge of my bunk and defying orders from my medical equal. "Wilson, this is worth it. Passing out will mean nothing to me, but shows that I want the safety of my family. If I went out like," I pulled my uniform out and my aching belly stuck out like a sore thumb, "then the Krauts will kill all three of us in an instant."

"I understand, Colonel," Wilson was carefully crafting an order. "I also know that –"

The door opened, causing me to shield my precious child, but it was only Carter. "Colonel Hogan is back!" he said. "Schultz has him now and –"

As the same time I was hiding my belly again, Wilson and I said simultaneously, "Bring him in here!" Carter popped his head out and yelled for Schultz to bring Rob in here. As soon as the order was issued, the door opened and in came Schultz.

Events afterward happened so quickly that even I had no moment to think except have my mind on the task ahead – Rob. Bruises covered his body and his jacket, used to soak up a bloody spot, was lightly dripping from a stab wound.

I can thank everyone in the heavens and elsewhere the he wasn't shot!

Ordering that Rob be laid in my bunk, Wilson and I got to work immediately. Nothing had altered the state Rob was in. He was dead in the dark and his pulse indicated some life (if Schultz hadn't reached him in time, then he would have been far from our grasps). I didn't wish to soil my hands in the matter, so I mostly let Wilson do the dirty work. He worked just as well as I do. We've both trained each other well.

Schultz was behind us, watching and waiting silently. As soon as I could break from the task I was mostly watching anyway, I turned back to Schultz, leaning heavily on the desk. "Thank you, Schultz," I said, truly meaning it. "You saved his life."

Schultz shook his head, probably remembering the words that the prisoners said to him after I screamed at him a couple of days ago.

I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and said, guiding him out the door where anxious prisoners stood, "Schultz, I'm sorry about everything. You are justly a humanitarian to the prisoners here. I am happy and very grateful that you are in charge of our barracks."

There were no words to reply to what I said. Something must have been bothering Schultz for a long time and I think my words have touched him. He smiled, silently taking his gun from LeBeau (who held it for him, I guessed), and out the door he went.

It was nighttime when I noticed as Schultz opened the door to the barracks again to ask about Rob again. The stars were out and a warmer air seeped through the barracks. The windows were opened, before bedtime deemed them closed. Spring came in to comfort me, giving me the extra strength to go on.

I knew, then and there, that I had to tell Rob as soon as he was well enough. It was spring, the season of renewal and indeed, I had better tell him in the time for which we could restart our lives in the civilian world.

I thought more about the interrogation and torture methods. Hochstetter had not received anything from Rob. That much I could tell. He is also sure to come back with vengeance, though, and unleash it if he has nothing more than a confession (it might not be for a few days). Hochstetter will _never_ leave us alone unless he has something more about the situation at hand. I know him _too_ well.

I stood there for a few moments, enjoying this rare warmth (Schultz had left the Colonel's quarters and had gone out the door already) until Wilson broke my trance. "Colonel," he said, motioning silently, "Colonel Hogan is awake."

There was uproar! Men scrambled to the door to see Rob, but I managed to get through. As soon as I yelled that wanted to get in, the men parted and quieted themselves, making way for me as if the Red Sea opened up for the Israelites.

Baker, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk followed me in as Wilson came out, pushing the crowds back, as if they were to follow me to a promised land. I clicked the door closed behind the foursome as they came in with me, facing the small light that allowed us to see Rob, sitting up obdurately on my bunk. He smiled at me, knowing that I or any of the men would cry or become lost at this sight. He even said weakly, "Nothing can ever stand up to the steel will of this colonel!"

Rob's eyes twinkled. His mischief of the past day would have been forgotten if Carter had not asked, "What are we going to do now, Colonel Hogan?"

"We should wait this out," I said for Rob. "There is so much he can do."

"Wilson had already done his worst," Rob said, still in his jokester mood. He held out his wrists for me to inspect, as if I was his mother.

I smiled lightly at him and went to sit on the bunk, inspecting what Wilson had done, just to satisfy him. I then said, "How are you feeling?"

"Better than before," Rob said happily. In a much more sober mood, he added, "There was nothing they could get out of me."

"So the duo has their doubts?" Baker asked.

"Yes," Rob said, closing his eyes. "That was why I was released early."

"That Kraut was being merciful," LeBeau said angrily.

"Not so 'ast, Louis!" Newkirk said. "Hochstetter is above and beyond us now."

"And he's bond to come back," Baker said grimly. He was shaking. I sought to reassure Baker, but didn't dare get up from the bunk when the radioman told me, on his face, that he was fine. Baker, though, wasn't the type to be frightened by such a trivial thing (to him, I should mention) as Hochstetter.

"Oh, yes," I said to equal this voice. "So we had better get our rest and prepare ourselves for this."

Nodding his head and dozing off, Rob smiled and asked that the four leave and they did. Baker was the last to leave. He lingered to make sure that Rob was all right and finally left, closing the door behind him.

By the time this happened, Rob was soundly asleep. I sighed. I might as well watch him for the time being in the chair. And here I am writing still. Rob has been resting and eating this past day because of my orders. Earlier he was reading a book (a _book_?) and wondering when I'm going to stop this silent treatment. Sure, I've been quiet and only talking when it was necessary, but soon was the time I need to tell him about the baby.

I kissed his forehead and said, "I have some news to tell you later." It got him curious at last. He was also much more sleepy than curious. He put down the codebook and curled up under the covers. And with that, he slept with me singing him a sweet lullaby.

"_Did it take long to find me?" I asked the faithful light  
"Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?"_


	7. An Allied Victory

**May 5  
****Outside Klink's Office – 0941 Hours**

I'm just waiting here, outside of Klink's office, for Rob to come out. He's been doing a lot better despite him insisting to join us all at roll call. He also tries to put everything back to normal and wants to settle the men down, peel away their worries and constantly be silly about the usual comical events that happen in the camp. He is still concerned for me as I am for him. I always worry that Hochstetter will come back and finish the job up. I also worry that the war won't end soon enough to tell him about the secret the men are just dying to tell him. And there isn't really anything wrong. It's just the consequences of knowing each other and not marrying each other, of which everyone at home has been anxiously waiting for in all of the years we've been together.

This morning, I gave Rob some hint of what might be going on, but I don't think he got it. At breakfast, Rob was commenting that I was eating more than usual. My portion consists of a plate or bowl, but I went for seconds, and that was a first in Nikki Michalovich's history of eating apparently. LeBeau was smiling at me as he accepted my bowl (potato soup again) to fill up again.

Rob joked about that I looked like I was gaining weight like crazy and that I might be as fat as a horse when the war is done. Anxious men stared at me as I answered.

"Well," I crafted my sentence carefully before thinking of speaking (rare is the time that I do that and not burst out what my first thoughts are), "Mama Bear has a package that needs to be full and content."

Rob had no clue in hell what I was talking about. He shrugged it off as if it was some lyrical line that I recite and went back to eating his potato soup, which he complimented LeBeau about. Complaints were plentiful elsewhere, however. LeBeau didn't even take in Rob's comment about the soup, but rolled his eyes about the prisoner complaints.

This might be a first, but Rob might not have any idea on what's going on! And I would have thought he'd guess by the hint!

Nothing much has happened since then except for Rob being called into Klink's office. I am about ready to start pacing. I'm vexed about this visit with Klink. I shouldn't be, as Klink is just apologizing for what had taken place a few days past. I can still hear the conversation through the open window, but I don't want to start eavesdropping again. Maybe I should leave it alone for Rob to handle alone.

The weather, in the meantime, has been more than perfect. I notice the laundry that has been strung out everywhere I walked today and gossip is being swapped among the men. There has been no mail for the last few weeks (it seems, with the end of the war in sight, production of everything has been slowed, mail included), so the men talk about the last ones and repeat regularly or they talk about might have happened since then. They are always hoping for the best, always wishing that they were home soon. Already, the rumors say that the Russians are in Berlin and that the war is over, but Klink is iron-fisted in this. He would have known by now, and most certainly, he is still in charge of this camp as he says when Rob mentions the end of the war (I swear, I wasn't eavesdropping, I just heard it through the window).

"Ok, chief," Rob said, saluting and coming out the door. He passed by Helga (a ride home in front of the office), who is quitting her post in Klink's office (Hilde did the same this week and left in a hurry). Of course, that means the male German personal here have to take care of these duties and that is rare indeed. I shudder to think that Linkmeyer ("Dragon Lady", as the men call her) would come back. Or perhaps she won't because the end of the war is near.

Here comes Rob. G-d, I have resolved something. I should tell him, then and there, before anything else happens to him. If Hochstetter came back and really…executed…him, then he'd know that at least I'll be safe when the tanks roll into the Main Gate and that there is some way that I can escape out of here. Then I have to reassure him that our child will be locked into my protection and he will. If only I can have a private moment with him.

I visited where Nancy was buried first late last night as the guards were not very antsy. Whispering some problems to that one spot has given me the idea that I should do this. It isn't as if it had some magic to it. It just feels as if Nancy was there, in front of me, telling me that I should tell Rob the truth. It has always been that way (talking to her face to face, I mean) since she was uncovered and sent back to England. And, pondering upon this problem, I should seriously tell Rob the truth. I am ready to do so. In my heart, I now acknowledge it's the right time to do it.

**Later – Nighttime  
****The Barracks – 2015 Hours**

The cat is out of the bag right now and it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. I can say, then and here, that Rob was surprised and not at all angry. The news that he told me first when he came out of Klink's office was what set off his good mood. I created a timetable with the perfect second to tell the truth to Rob.

Obviously, this all began when he came out of the Bald Eagle's office appearing optimistic and very cheery and holding something, I couldn't tell what. I found this a good sign and more the reason to tell him. The second good sign that said "tell him he's going to be a father" was when Rob took me by the arm, gently and with much love, and said, "Nikki, I have some good news. Men, I have some good news!" The second sentence he yelled to those around him did a huge crowd of men came near us. Going back to Barracks 2 was a hassle, what with all the men!

We got there, an old soap box placed next to the doorway outside by someone. This had allowed Rob to state his news through projection. Already, the whole camp was assembling around this little section.

Rob stepped up on the box and let go of my arm as he climbed up. He allowed me to stay next to him in this tremendous moment that I was feeling was about to happen.

"Men," Rob repeated, "I have good news that Kommandant Klink has allowed me to say personally because he is in no condition to say it himself."

"That's because he's been a poor sport and a sore loser!" Carter yelled.

"Yes, yes, we all know this," Rob said. "But this is big…so big…"

"How big is it, Colonel?" Newkirk asked, his eyes widening with laughter and joy, something I had never seen in Newkirk before.

"It's so big," Rob said with the same laughter in his eyes and pulling out and illustrating Klink's Hun helmet and sword from World War I, "that I can say that the Russians are in Berlin at this moment to negotiate peace and that Hitler is dead and –"

Rob didn't even finish. The cheering was deafening. I joined it no matter what condition I was in. The war is over and celebration was everywhere!

Hats flew aimlessly and cigarettes were exchanged and passed out. It was the best time of our lives. However, to me, it was also the most harrowing moment of my life and I will never forget it as long as I can live even after I become old and grey. Within the next twenty-four hours, we all grasped that the war is going to be over and the camp is going to be freed. We are going to be _liberated_!

_There are still so many that have never made it. Those brave people who risked their lives and have never lived to experience this time…and for what? For damned _what _did they do it for?_ Those were my next thoughts. I knew, somewhere in their hearts, that the men thought the same.

Rob motioned that there be silence, but the lingering buzz remained. But how can you stop when you know that your freedom is just a day away, perhaps not even?

Rob went on, anyhow. He put the sword down and stuck it to the ground, the helmet hanging from the sword's handle at the top (his own excitement was hard to conceal and his genuine concern for his men at that time touched me). "I just want to thank everyone here no matter where they are or what world they happen to be in, for the work they have done. You all know who you are…" He nodded to Baker, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau in the middle. "You all remember all those who were killed or have put their lives in front so that we could live."

"I call for a moment of silence," I said afterward, knowing exactly what Rob wanted and even if he didn't, it was impeccable timing to do so. Indeed, every man, myself included, removed their hats and caps and bowed their heads for all of those young men and women who have put their freedom behind ours. I, too, lowered my head and recalled every soul that has touched my life and had paid the ultimate price. There were too many.

After those few moments, of which the German guards joined us because their ranks have felt the same, Rob raised his head and said, "Let's wait patiently for the end." He then turned his head to the bloody stream that has been running for months now and the rest followed this motion, knowing what they found. Some men who went out to investigate it have reported that bodies, everyone from Germans to human skeletons shot, bleeding by the pounds. It makes me sick to think about it.

Rob then turned back to face his men. "The price will be paid," he said, causing many heads to swivel back, "and there will be a just reward for all of those who served." I knew that he not only meant our operation, but those who fought with us.

Saluting his men next, Rob said, "You are the best bunch of men I have ever had. Before we even leave, I want to thank each and every one of you for being there when I needed the help. I thank you for not giving up when we could have before and for listening to me many times when we could have ignored this place and its surroundings. We pulled through all right."

Rob then smiled at me, to his right: his best friend. I then thought of it.

Rob was coming down from his speech at the soap box and his usual crew of four – Baker, LeBeau, Carter and Newkirk – were coming down towards us. The rest of the men had disappeared, excited and inspired by their commanding officer. They were most likely going to pack and wait for the Russians to come through, our saviors, and clean up, hoping that within the next two weeks they'd be in England and then, if everything goes well, home to wherever they were supposed to be.

The four of them came up to me and Rob. "What do we do now, Colonel Hogan?" LeBeau asked. It seemed like routine, but now that I thought about it, it was irritating me because of the times I've heard it. All those other times, it was like…it was the usual, day-to-day thing. It was much like the times when there was a dead end in a mission and there was to be confidence given by the commanding officer. Now, the Russians are coming. Why hear it anymore? Why gain more morale when the commanding officer told the best news ever?

I knew that LeBeau wasn't addressing me, but I said nonetheless, "We can do nothing but wait for the offensive. Peace will come tomorrow hopefully and with it, the Allied troops. Patience is the key here."

When Rob was unable to add to this, I said to him, "Colonel, we have more _important_ issues to tackle right now." And then the men all understood and scattered immediately, joining in the festivities that dominated the camp.

My hands were shaking as I took Rob by the hand and led him to his…_our_…quarters.


	8. The Truth Comes Out

I shut the door imperiously and with much ceremony when I saw that we both were in the quarters. I was nervous and I can't say that enough! The _do not disturb_ sign was promptly put outside the door before the time I closed it, indicating to one and all that this was an extremely private conversation and under no circumstances should we be disturbed. I wanted this to be as calm as possible and remembering that Rob's temper is almost as worse as mine, I wanted to keep the mood very serene.

"All right, Nikki, what was so vital that you had to pull me away from the men?" Rob tackled the issue quickly. He also indicated that he had a want to be nearer to his men until the moment of liberation came and that I was hindering it. He's also probably wondering why I didn't join in with the merriment afterward and had to talk to him.

I wasn't at all surprised that he figured something was bothering me. I smiled sweetly, asking, "How did you know it was about me?"

Rob shrugged his shoulders and came closer to me, hugging me. And this time, he was indeed shocked that I let him because of these past few months of which I've been protective of myself. "Because I've known you for so long," he whispered in my ear.

I sensed that Rob was struggling to find out what the big deal about me was. He figured out that there was something wrong already.

I backed away before anything could become serious again. Rob accepted this and moved back. I felt the baby stir (he or she had been asleep for a while as the tremendous news was announced) as I said, "I've been wanting to say this for a few months now, Rob."

When Rob started to question this, I raised my hand for silence, much as he did just this past quarter hour (and half a million time before this moment), and said, "Please let me explain."

I sighed. "Rob, these past seven months have been the best that I have ever had after this war has started. I'll be more frank and say that it's been better than before despite the situations we have to face each and every other day."

I waited for this to sink in before going on with my explanation. Rob was paying attention to me. He recognized, from the start, what our relationship meant to the other men and the Krauts. "Rob, we've broken so many promises by saying that we'd stay chaste until the end of the war. Well, it's the end of the war and here we are, snug and safe in these barracks. We have done the unthinkable. For over a decade, we've said that we'd leave it as a love relationship without our physical expression."

"You're aiming for something here," Rob said sheepishly.

"Yes, I am," I said sarcastically. "You're such a smart soldier!"

"Stop this chiding and get to the point," Rob said much more authoritative, arms crossed and foot tapping the floor.

"All right, all right," I said, "but first I want you to close your eyes." I had just thought of doing this instead of telling him face-to-face. It was simpler. I also didn't know what other way to show him. I was that frightened.

"Why?" Rob was suspecting something and he was right to, just in the wrong sense of the word.

"Because the action speaks louder than the words," I said, thinking it correct to do it this way.

Rob sighed and shut his eyes. Just to make sure that he wasn't cheating on me, I waved my hands over his eyes. I did this when I wanted to make sure he wasn't looking and at other times, when I think he isn't sleeping and I wanted time alone.

When Rob's lashes move or when he blinks slightly, then I know that he's joshing me. But when he didn't, I felt this sensation of safety and security. I was sure that the surprise was safe and sound for the moment, so I undressed. The windows were closed and locked from the outside sunlight, so I knew that peeking eyes were not to be locking their faces into my not-so slim body.

I didn't exactly run naked, but I did loosen every inch of my tightened uniform until my large and un-protesting child popped out. I smiled and went forward to embrace Rob. "Ok, you can open your eyes now," I said, closing mine to block out his initial reaction.

I will never know if Rob did open his eyes, but I felt his arms feel my body. He noticed that it was loosen and not as stiff as it had been these past few months. I followed, with a tingling feel, his arm movement from my upper body and then down, down, down…

Rob hit the jackpot when he reached my belly. At first, I felt that hesitation and then the unbelieving shock in his movement. I opened my eyes at that moment and saw the alarm on his face. I cannot, for the life of me, describe this face. There were no words.

I broke this silence. "I wish I could have told you earlier, but I knew that it would endanger the operation. I –"

Rob shook his head and let me loose. I started dressing again, but Rob stopped me. "Nikki, this changes everything."

"Yes, I know, Rob," I replied, almost rolling my eyes with this obvious observation, "and that was why –"

"This is still dangerous," Rob said, resigned and beyond shock. It was as if he didn't have the words to describe what he had possibly seen, but he went on anyhow. "The Krauts can still shoot us, and if this found out before we are out of here –"

"Then why do you think I kept this a secret until a few days ago?" I asked with some defensive tones to my voice (I was still aware of the ears outside). "It became too much. The men knew about it."

When Rob was about to protest this breach of confidence I said, "I ordered them to. Rob, they were protecting this operation, too. So when you went off to the cooler a few days ago, I vowed that I'd tell you if you came out alive and here you are. You have the right to know. But I'm telling you now: you can accept this and marry me. Or we can end this relationship here and now and pretend that nothing happened these seventeen years. I love you more than anything in this world and cannot pretend that these long years never happened. However, I am more than willing to disappear from your life as soon as the tanks come in. For all you know, I can stay here for the rest of my life with your child."

Rob showed how stunned he was by this last statement. "Of course I can't erase these years with you," he answered quietly enough. "That is why I was going to ask if you want to marry me still. You, live in Germany? I can laugh."

Now, usually I don't become surprised at anything, but those words threw the wind out of me. "Yes," I said, answering his question about marrying him. I proceed to dress to avoid any other stupid words.

"Good," Rob almost whispered (historical words to remember, ha!). "Mind if we announce this?" He held his arm out to me, indicating an escort sort-of persona.

I took it after I dressed, smiling, and went out the door with Rob, who proclaimed that we still getting married as soon as possible and that today was a day to celebrate.

And party we did! Rob and I sat down at the center table, as if we were conspiring against the Germans again, and he kept patting my belly as if I were some animal or something. I always think that he's excited about it and doesn't want to show it. His shock is past and he's more on the cautious and childlike side about it. It irritated me highly, though.

The last time Rob petted me I said before a crowd with a snappish voice, "What am I, a horse?" After that, with much laughter (the men were relieved that their part in this secret is over), the small rations were cut in half and the barracks, as the word spread, commemorated this day on their own terms.

The parties went on for quite some time, but the reminder from Schultz that the rules were still enforced dawned on us. Tomorrow was another day and that day we might be getting out of here forever, to go home and be among the living again.

Schultz had just come in and said lights out, so I'm heading to bed. My neck is hurting me as I slip in a night gown. Rob is sleeping next to me tonight virtuously (with not much room to spare), as if he wanted to protect me. His gun is out and ready to use at this time, as if he, too, senses the danger. But the feeling has come with full force…


	9. Gestapo Guards Come

**May 6 – Liberation at Last!  
****The End of the War: Klink's Quarters – 2300 Hours**

I will never forget this for as long as I can live. For this, I can glad that is it finally done and over with. This day, however, I could have lost my life, my child's and that of Rob's and all because of Hochstetter, who found us out too late. The war has ended and before Hochstetter could make a move against us, the execution orders were cancelled within a fine swoop in the form of Allied troops, both American and Russian.

And to think that it all started this morning, within the time of roll call, and that this camp could have been decimated by Gestapo men. Tonight, I think back on the rough and hectic morning. It turned quickly for the better, ending with me here in Klink's quarters. I am held here alone.

~00~

This morning seemed so normal. Last night's celebrations seemed like a distant memory and the tunnel system almost like history. This day, we were normal prisoners of war, waiting for our liberators and anxiously, if not impatiently, pacing. Some men were dressing in their best and shaving as if this day counted as when Klink had his inspectors come in (they had mostly dressed as slobs when this happened). Others sat there waiting, showing their excitement by trashing their portions of the barracks as much as possible, leaving behind a pigpen.

I was calmer than most but just as happy that we were out of here as the rest of the men. I had done my usual routine by dressing and hiding what my condition is. Rob was already up and about, sitting there at the center table, and sipping his last cup of Red Cross coffee that we despised of so much. I sat down next to him, smiled and accepted the cup that LeBeau offered me every morning, indicating that breakfast was on the way. This morning was no different to each other one that he offered me such.

I sipped the cup of coffee slowly, taking in the scene in the barracks and remembering for the last time what it looked like and anything significant that I can take with me as we head home. I saw our sink running constantly, excited men and our usually-dirty barracks being trashed. All and all, it wasn't bad.

I took it all in and sat there silently. Before long, we'll be leaving. Behind us was an Allied operation that lasted for almost three years, the jokes we played on the Germans, some friendships, the people who died here and even that longing for home that we've always had.

It was only this morning that I said that we could have died, despite this serene situation at the barracks. It was this morning that we weren't aware that Hochstetter had, too late, found his evidence and would bring it here, only to try to execute us. It was _this morning_ that the gunfire that we've heard since October came closer and came to us in the form of our liberators.

Something was bothering me. Breakfast was able to be served and the men sang of their praises for the Allied Forces and of their blows and offensives in Europe instead of complaining about the food. Outside the camp, though, something more sinister was able to happen. I sensed it in the back of the neck. This time, instead of all the other times that I've ignored it, I've decided to follow it.

Immediately, I thought of liberation and what could be hindering it. There was, indeed, one force. When I thought about Hochstetter and what his goons might think about when they hear of the downfall of the Third Reich, I knew that I hit the target of my fear and the danger at hand. Hochstetter was coming here and he was heading here because of the operation. He finally had his evidence and would dash our hopes of liberation.

I knew that this was it as soon as I heard the Main Gate open and those familiar sirens ring in our ears. Towards the end of the war, that gate hasn't been open. Those sirens…we haven't heard them in ages and in hearing them it declared a great fear. That Main Gate opening was the beginning of the end of the men of Stalag 13. The men knew it and stood in fright, turning to Rob for what to do.

I could even imagine the aftermath: when the Allies, and especially those generals, come in here, they would see this massacre and declare how brave the men here were and oh, what a shame it was that the Gestapo got to them before they did. The Germans discovered what was under their noses for these past years. It was to explain why all of the activity, as if they hadn't mentioned that it centered around Stalag 13, and how everything of theirs was blown to bits or that someone of great importance disappeared. Oh, the sadness in it!

For me, this wasn't what I was feeling. I appreciated what these men have done and what they especially have contributed to the war effort as men, even _as_ prisoners of war working in a tricky operation. I was more panicked, more afraid, of what was to happen next. It wasn't just for me and Rob but for all of the men in this camp.

Somehow though, I stayed in my place; maybe it was because it was engrained in my mind that a commander stays with the men or that I have considered these people to be my friends no matter what happens. Everyone even followed my motions and stayed in their place, still frightened and looking for guidance on what to do. As aware as they were that the war was over, they were hearing those sirens and the Main Gate opening and letting in the common enemy, even Klink's: the Gestapo, who had discovered, perhaps just in time, that we were spies and involved with espionage activities.

Newkirk, as he jumped from his bunk the last time I could recall, inched his way towards the window next to the bunk that lead to the evidence – our tunnels. He slid his figure right before the windowpanes, knowing all too well what was out there, but more to figure out what we are up against. He, as well as everyone else in this room, knew that we were trapped. It was more of a matter of time before we were fenced in these barracks, forced to show the evidence and torture and/or killed. Either way, we were all dead.

Staring out the window as a thin shadow, Newkirk whistled. "Gov'nor," he said in a whisper, "there are twenty truck loads 'ull of the Gestapo." Sliding away from the window before he was seen, Newkirk came back to the center table almost shaking. He sat down and took in that cup of coffee that LeBeau offered him, most likely for the last time in this life.

Rob and I also continued to do the same. I was most likely thinking the same as Rob was too: twenty trucks of Gestapo agents mean something. There are twenty barracks, about fifteen to twenty men in each. It was obvious to us that those trucks held the firing squad for every one of the barracks. There is no escape for the men. They found us out, by the end of the war, and didn't care that they were lost in this war but that the enemies of their Nazi State were dead. Even if we were to head out through the tunnels the Gestapo were sure to find us as we came out of there and shoot on from where they were. The chase would be futile in the woods. The best we could do at that moment…_that moment_ where all hope was lost…was to wait for the end. I knew that Rob and I were to go first, since we were the highest ranking prisoners, and the others would follow shortly.

As I predicted in my mind, as I continued to drown my cup of coffee, we were to be the ones to go first. I heard an argument outside with Hochstetter and Klink, the latter of which came out when he heard the sirens. I wouldn't know if Schultz was there or not, I didn't bother to get up and look out the window as Newkirk did.

"Major Hochstetter, I would not have you come in here and –"

"Klink, you fool, these prisoners have been running a sabotage unit under your nose and are still prisoners of the Third Reich. They are to be executed as soon as possible."

"Major Hochstetter, might I remind you that I am still in charge of this camp? And as long as these prisoners are here they are under _my_ jurisdiction and –"

"Klink, you are blocking my way to these spies!" Hochstetter must have scared Klink enough because after that burst of strength Klink had obviously let Hochstetter pass.

We could all hear the Gestapo troops heading this way and that, mostly in our direction. And before Rob could get up, as he wanted to, and order that we all stay as calm as possible, they came in. The door was kicked open to Barracks 2 and at its head was Hochstetter.

Hochstetter signaled quickly and events moved onward. The orders were to grab me and Rob and indeed, we were dragged out of the barracks brutally and by the collar (I was practically choking). Behind us, I saw before we were herded into Klink's office, were the Gestapo goons who surrounded the camp, a group of them harassing the men in our barracks. LeBeau was standing up to them when he was pushed back. He was, most likely, going to be shot for his arguing.

The last thing I saw was Baker and Carter holding LeBeau back before he was killed first. Newkirk had also joined in with Amos as the two went in front of LeBeau. It was like the two were offering themselves to the Gestapo before they shot LeBeau.

I was only all the more happier that the guards didn't search me and Rob. I still held my pistol in my boot. I was more than ready to use it against Hochstetter. I can't fear his tyranny much longer and I can't stand back as I watch him kill those I hold dear to me. The leader of this group must go and not _us_.


	10. Hochstetter's Last Stand

Hochstetter had his guards push me and Rob into Klink's office. The office, where so many people have met their Fate, have bargained for their rights and even asked for some simple modesty and humanity, was going to become a host – a silent witness – in our deaths through Hochstetter.

Indeed, when the Hangman of the Stalags had his guard release us by the collars, the two of us dropped to the floor as if we were to pay homage to Hochstetter, who held our lives, and our child's, in his hands. I was trying to find my footing after feeling my knees hit the floor. Rob had already found his way up and was already running to speed.

Rob stood before Hochstetter, as I did when I found my ground off of the cold floor, and asked, almost jokingly, "A pleasure to see you again, Major. What occasion does your visit honor?"

"Shut up, Hogan…or should I say, Papa Bear?" Hochstetter sneered and snickered. "Before long, Hogan, you, your men and Desertstar here will meet their ends. We may not have captured our famous agents, even Tiger, Nimrod and Cobra, but it's more time to execute you and your men. This may be the end of the war, but this isn't the end of the Gestapo."

My anger seethed inside of me, all of a sudden, as I listened to Hochstetter and it wasn't determination. I, in all the fear that I felt in those two years I've know Hochstetter, felt the trepidation become set aside. I don't know this feeling and I am still trying to figure it out. All I can recall is that maddening impulse to kill Hochstetter then and there. He was threatening us. I wanted to get him out of the way because he was the danger we had on our backs for months.

It was worse that, before anybody could answer Hochstetter, as he demanded his answers before we had a "painless" interrogation, he would take action against us. And it was that split second after he finished this threat that Hochstetter struck Rob in the face, causing him to fall back because of its impact.

"How do you plead, Hogan?" Hochstetter said to Rob as he hit the floor. There was no answer. I stood still, that mysterious anger still running in me.

_How dare Hochstetter do this?_ "You can't accuse us of anything but being loyal officers to the Allies," I said with disrespect to my voice, acid on my tongue.

Hochstetter didn't think to do a thing to me at the moment – it would come later – and I didn't bother to help Rob up for he recovered by himself. However, when Rob had his senses back, he saw my face. He knew what I was going to do next and that he couldn't stop me from doing this. I didn't even _know_ that I was able to strike back at Hochstetter and take my revenge for what he had done to me and Rob, my friends in the barracks…my brothers –in-arms…and most certainly to my family. I was to have my payback to this man who put fear in my soul, wrecked my heart and tried time and again to prove that we, indeed, had an operation under Klink's nose. That time I was going to _kill_ him as I did to Schruss almost nine months ago. This time, there will BE no guilt in killing him because of how glad I will be that he's gone.

I moved before I could even think about what I was doing. I was quick, grabbing the strength that I never knew I had. I charged Hochstetter as he did to so many people. I remember a flash of silver; my gun was out and I was placing a surprised Hochstetter to a corner next to a window. Rob stayed back, as he always did, because of his knowing of how reckless I am. He has been staying away from me in this fashion for years now.

It didn't matter to me where Rob was or not. I wasn't even thinking of Rob and his ways of keeping away from me but of Hochstetter and his death. "You…you…" was all I said. I was so unaware of my surroundings, only that Hochstetter was pinned to a corner in Klink's office. I didn't even think that Hochstetter had a gun too, stupid me. I didn't think that he could fight back, _idiot_ me.

Hochstetter did counter my sudden attack and bounced me off of him. So, instead of me having the beloved Major in a headlock, I was on the floor and Hochstetter was over me and this time, he was making sure I was staying put. My gun skidded across the floor and I was looking into the eyes of Hochstetter, the barrel of his gun pointed at my head.

Hochstetter grinned. "You have insulted a German officer for the last time, Desertstar," he said, addressing me by my codename for the first time ever. "This time, you will pay for it dearly."

I didn't speak. All reason was coming back to me. I was recalling what I had done and what I had said. _I can't believe that I did that_, I thought as I stared up at the Hangman. I couldn't slither my way out of this situation. I was trapped like the animal I was treated as when I was captured.

"Well?" Hochstetter demanded of me. "What do you wish to say for yourself? How _do_ you plead?"

I still couldn't say anything in defense. There was nothing for me to say to save us all, but there is something inside of me and I had to save that from destruction. I thought of the child and then found my words. I don't know where they came from. They just came out of nowhere, a mother's desperate plea to save her family. "Major, if you save this camp…if you don't shoot, you could save four lives in here, in this very room, not just three –"

"Shut up!" Hochstetter said. "You've said enough. Now, say your prayers."

I closed my eyes and expected another ending. I had pictures in my mind then: it was of Nancy and the time of her death. I could only see her digging the grave with her bare hands, bloody from all the work in her life she had done. And then, before she could say anything, before she could pray to her G-d, she was shot and then kicked into the grave, never to be heard of again. The subject matter was closed.

Now, two years later, it was my turn and this time, I had run out of luck. I had no more words for this life. I had tried and failed to save my life and those around me. I had lost myself in the prospects that this war wouldn't make victims out of all of us. That time, I thought that I was wrong and my feelings were justified. We were dead soldiers and I was first to die because of my hostility.

Flashes of my life came before me as I kept my eyes closed. I don't know why. It all came back to me. My childhood, growing up, traveling, the U.S. Army, the war…it all went before me. I couldn't pick a memory to keep with me forever or feel the drama in each situation.

Death would rob me of that, if only it could come. I don't know how much time passed when I had my eyes opened last. I don't know what had happened or what was to come to pass as the trigger was pulled. I had no sense of time and thought that, as I heard noise, that I was on another plane. I didn't feel different though, so I opened my eyes.

I didn't know what was going on outside specifically. It wasn't another piece of heaven where I was to meet those I lost. I was still at Stalag 13.

I thought of my life once more. Then, my thoughts of being alive at the moment were to be interrupted again. A lone shot pierced a windowpane, causing Hochstetter to hesitate in his aim. It was nearer to him than he thought. He looked behind him, as if there was a curse there to grab him, and aimed his gun back on me again. I didn't see Rob. I didn't need to.

However, my neck wasn't bothering me. I hadn't noticed any feeling in it until that moment. Then, I knew that we were to live. There were no doubts about it this time.

I saw Hochstetter's finger moving back on his trigger. Closer…closer…closer…

There was a _bang_ as the door opened. Klink's office was suddenly opened to the outside world, kicked and unbolted. I whipped my head over immediately to see that before us were our saviors, the Allies. There were airmen and foot soldiers that stood before us, the Americans and Russians, its head a sergeant who just as easily pointed his weapon at Hochstetter.

"Put the damned gun down, Kraut, or your ass will be mine!" The voice attracted me. There, where the voice came from, was a young man with dark, dark hair like Rob. His eyes were the same brown pools that you could get lost in.

This youthful demeanor didn't intimidate Hochstetter at all and his aim was still on me, on the floor. However, I saw that Rob had grabbed my gun and the men behind their leader had their weapons aimed at Hochstetter. Hochstetter was surrounded and had forfeited it. He saw the end of his scheming plans. His hands shook with so many people pointing Death in his way, the first time ever, and he dropped his gun finally. The gun _clanked_ on the floor next to me, never firing a shot. It laid there, a metal remainder to me about the precious passage of Life and Death. Above me, Hochstetter was being led away to who knows where by the Russians.

It was over. The war was over. Stalag 13 was saved and we were all going home. _Home_…

"Nik Nik, are you alright?" The man before me, who had told Hochstetter to drop his gun, walked to me and held his hand out before me.

When I looked up to him, to that six-foot-nothing of him, I knew exactly who he was. It was Jerry, who appeared exactly as Rob did when he was twenty-one years old and a crazed sergeant at West Point. His language earlier then hit me, as Jerry spent years and years, as the youngest of the family, in the conservative atmosphere full of Sally's protection and shielding, something he probably didn't miss when he was around in the war.

I took the hand before me and stood right back up. "Yes, I am…fine," I said, enduring Rob's careful inspection of me as he came towards me and Jerry.

Silence stood after my answer until Rob then looked to Jerry and nodded his head with approval. I was out of the picture for the moment and not in their thoughts – _good_.

Smiling, Rob said to Jerry, "The game is afoot, Watson. You have first-class timing, as usual, old chap."

"It was nothing to it, Sherlock," Jerry answered with a perfect British accent. "It was just deduction and simple thinking and reasoning, that is all."

There was nothing more to say afterward. Rob nodded his head again and then turned back to me. I felt Rob's glaze on me after he talked to Jerry, all in that brief exchange. He circled me, parking himself in front of Klink's desk, looking as if he was going to complain about the Red Cross packages. Our eyes met with relief as he turned around. We were safe. The war was over and it insured us of the life we were going to have back in the States.

_But wait…what about the men in the barracks?_ The thought hurt me. Shock shook me as Jerry put his hands on my shoulders. His concern for me was apparent as he saw my face. "Nik Nik, what's wrong?"

Rob knew what was wrong immediately. Suddenly, his face was whiter than I had ever seen it before. He was done with seeing me almost killed. What about his men? Were they _safe_?

Rustling called our attentions to the door so that thought of the men was extinguished for the second. A Russian came to our view and his aged, stoic face revealed something more to me. "I should think, Colonel Hogan, that all of your men are out of harm's way at this time. They are being taken care of as we speak. The Gestapo has been, so to speak, taken off of their backs."

I strained my eyes to see who was in the doorway. The darkness, because the lights were knocked out somehow, told me that it should be someone I knew for a long time. If this person could tell about the concerns I have and could read my mind as such, then he knew a great deal about me, Rob and what had happened all these years.

I ripped myself from Jerry's grip and went towards the door. I knew who the Russian was. It could no other person other than my own father from the Russian Front.

"Father…!" I exclaimed, turning that walk to the door to a run. My arms flung open to his returning embrace. Finally, _finally_, I could be enveloped into the peace and love I wanted. The other person I could not see and had worries about was alive. Father was _alive_.

It is as if time as passed as quickly as it did and it was the same with that ever-so-brief hug. Father had taken his grip off of me and, as Carter would say, took a gander at me. His raised eyebrow indicated to me that he noticed some change in me (did he _know_?) and that he was…_interested_…by it.

Indeed, when he turned to the brothers by Klink's desk, Father nodded his head and said, "Is there any place for her and the child?"

All right, so Father did hit the target exactly. He also can tell who the father was, hands down. It was so obvious by Rob's color in his cheeks and his goofy and mischievous smile that he was it. Jerry was also smiling, but it was for a different reason. He was happy, I think, about this. He wanted our relationship to go farther (he was one of those people in the family, probably because he heard the opinion at the dinner table so many times) and wanted us married already. His beaming revealed to me his joy that perhaps, we'll be closer to this goal that we thought.

Father's inquiry about a separate room for me was answered by Rob. His pointing to the Kommandant's room behind me, which the men had created a door for months before, was the perfect hideaway for me apparently. Father, in satisfaction, smiled, went to the door and opened it for me.

I couldn't back away from the silent order anymore than I wanted to at that moment. I also remembered, since I was fourteen, that there was _no_ way to disobey Father.

Why would they _want_ to separate me from everyone else? Oh, I almost forgot: vaccination and interviews. The liberators want their information, especially those generals, and wanted it before we reached London and Headquarters. They want to know, firsthand, about the Stalag 13 operation and what we did to destroy Nazi Germany. They want their evidence, they want their pictures and most certainly they want to know the men behind it.

I couldn't think about that right now. All I could think about was how to escape another prison within a prison. Father was leading me someplace safer for my sake, I know that, and he wanted me out of the way for when he talked to Rob. That conference between the two was years in the making and it required more than enough strength to yell down his demands on why his spinster daughter was again pregnant and not married. She conceived with the same man, no _doubt_.

I went inside and the door closed behind me, a room of almost darkening proportions, a single beam a sunshine lighting the bedroom. It was my only solace as I began yet another exile in the prison camp and the next phase of my life in the process of becoming liberated. And this time, it was a step closer to freedom, no matter how harrowing this sounded and seemed to me. I am alone again, with protection around me outside. I was around those who set us free from the camp.

But ever since this morning, I have been here. I have been in here thinking, writing and staring out the window of a camp that was now set free. There is nobody outside or around the compound but those soldiers who have graciously taken the word "prison" out of the phrase "prison camp". Today, we are a band of soldiers in a camp now unshackled by those on our side.

For some reason I should be happy about this. I should be grateful that the war is over and that we are heading home soon. Why is it, though, that I am crying?


	11. Boredom, Examinations and Interviews

**May 7  
****Klink's Quarters – 1945 Hours**

I have been locked up in here for over a day now and have been more than bored in here. I have done more thinking that I ever have had to do in my life and more than enough decisions have been made in this time. I looked back upon the war and my choices – well-thought-out and otherwise – and resolved many of them that I thought were to have solved my problems of long ago. I even reflected upon my rebellious nature in this war and have decided that after we have reached England that I am retiring from this army. I don't want to be a military family and have to move everywhere, but be one where at least a parent is home for the children. I want to be a mother who was there to watch her children grow up and see them become the men and women I want them to be. I want to grow up to be responsible, peaceful and loving human beings with respect for the other beings of this planet. There is nothing more satisfying than that.

The true highlight of today was the visit of the other general who liberated us, the U.S. Army General Mitchell-Brown, as associate of General Alburtis. I knew about Mitchell-Brown and am not impressed with him as I am with many people in the U.S. Army who are my senior.

All in all, I have not been enchanted with the idea of authority. I want to be my own person. That was one of my decisions today, too, and it goes hand in hand with leaving the military. My problem is that I have been in the military or a part of it since I was nine years old. What way is there to break habits that I've been drilled about since then? You can't break twenty-three years of practice and tradition and most certainly can't break the ways I've been disciplined to know. Today, though, and for the many years to come, I would have to break them. Of course, I would have to use them, especially in my interview, for sympathy and a way out. That is the only way.

It was about 1330 hours when I heard noise outside of Klink's quarters and it had been the first that I had heard in these past twenty-four hours. I have been hearing scraps of the outside world in the meantime, but the compound has been quiet. Soldiers scamper here and there and explore the outside walls of the camp, searching for escaping Nazis (guards or Klink). Prisoners are still restricted within the camp, unless with permission to leave.

Prisoners are also being checked by the doctors before they are cleared to go to England. I would look out the windows and see them avoiding their last duties before leaving or even trying to enjoy the German sunshine before being ordered inside the barracks again. It is close and yet so far away, from freedom and getting out of here.

Anyhow, my interview came at the time when Mitchell-Brown came about. It was almost 1400 hours; I was still in my uniform from the day before. I had loosened it and was waiting anxiously for my turn to be vaccinated and cleared up. I didn't expect that my interview was to first and not this important clear-up. I didn't know, as I heard those boots scrapping the floor in Klink's office, that my turn to talk to our saviors had come.

When a corporal had banged open the door to the quarters and said, "Ten hut!" I had stood up in attention immediately and waited for whichever general to come in. I saluted as his corporal aide did. I didn't realize that it was something that I did every time, but that it was for someone important.

I saw the three-star general come in, though. He saluted me back formally, clicked his boots together and said, "At ease, gentlemen." His corporal put his hand to his side as I did and went his way out, closing the door behind him. He knew that he was dismissed as soon as it was said. He wasn't needed anymore.

"Be seated, Colonel Michalovich," the General said to me. Offering him the nearest chair, I sat down at the couch, a most comfortable one because of Klink and his want of being away from it all (ha, ha).

I smiled at the General, waiting for his questions. They came, but it wasn't as I _expected_ it to be. From the way he asked them, Mitchell-Brown wanted the juicy details of the operation and nothing more. He wanted this all to himself. When he had it he could record it, send it in as his thesis and become the hero that saved the Stalag 13 operation from the Gestapo at the last minute. He could be _the_ top general and become the person who held the secrets to the operation.

I wasn't having a bit of it either way. I just wanted this done and over with. I didn't want to waste my energy on explaining bit by bit what my involvement was in this place.

I listened as carefully as I could to what the General wanted and pieced together what I wanted him to hear and what he would not have in his reports. He would have the _whole_ story sometime later. I'm betting that the other men in the camp are doing the same.

"State your name, rank and serial number," Mitchell-Brown said first after introducing himself. I'm snickering right now when I think back upon his smile, his face so full of sympathy for what I went through. What an officer and gentleman he is! Ha!

I said it carefully, punctuating every syllable and saying it ever-so-clearly. The next question was the one that told me what he intended to do. "Colonel, now I need the details of what the Stalag 13 operation did. The other men have not said anything, as they are being tended to, and you are the first that I have been able to talk to. London needs this badly. They are going to be complying a report for the secret operation that they themselves have ordered to be built. You have been the other commander of this outfit and you have been on most of the missions. What details you can describe about these missions?"

I saw a notebook come into Mitchell-Brown's lap and he already had written who I am, where we are, the date and the location of the camp. That was the first clue. The second one was when he said that London wanted a report about this operation. I knew that it was a bunch of lies, as London knew about this place and specifically what we have exploded. _They_ were the ones who set up the missions, connected us to the Underground and ordered us about. _Why_ would they want a report, via this general? Sure, they might want this information later, when we reach England. They would want what we did, our decisions and actions and even naming those who worked with us specifically. However, when someone asks me before that moment, then I would know that he's after some glory.

I smiled sweetly enough and was vague enough so that he couldn't account for anything of special importance. "General, we took orders from London. They were the ones who were told us where to go. We just followed what they said and worked with others. That is all."

"There isn't anything that you would like to add to that?" Mitchell-Brown asked as he knitted his eyebrows and looked at his notebook. "There are no details to add or certain missions that are very important?"

Otherwise, Mitchell-Brown scribbled whatever I said into his notebook. I almost laughed to see his pathetic efforts that an aide should be doing _for_ him. _Maybe he doesn't even _want_ the aide, just in case said aide takes away his time to shine._

"General," I said, "there isn't anything specific that I would remember. There were so many of them that I can't recall _every_ single one." I even laughed like I wanted to a few seconds before. It sounded fake to me, as if his questions were amusing and not his attempts at being the chief executor in this camp liberation.

_Besides which, the Soviets were the ones who came in with them,_ I thought._ I bet the Americans were helping out. They wanted some adventure as the Red Army came in from the east, to Berlin._ It was a somewhat treasonous thought, but I didn't care.

"Uh-huh," was the answer. Mitchell-Brown looked up from his notebook, so much reminding me of my nephew Jozef. "So, Colonel, there is nothing to say?"

"Yes and no, General Mitchell-Brown," I said, my laughter stopped. He was becoming serious at that point. His face, which was once appearing full of empathy because he wanted something out of me, was now stoic and stone-like.

The General sighed, obviously frustrated (silent, of course, and he wouldn't take it out on me if he knew my history of temper tantrums). He not getting anywhere with me and I took it as my personal victory of the day.

It was after a lengthy silence afterward that the General stood up from his chair, shutting his notebook closed. "Colonel, as always, you have been unclear and almost as sneaky as those you played with. Think, _long and hard_, about what has happened in these three years. That's an order. Questions need to be answered. London has been dubious about this, even though they have ordered the tunnels dug and the operation started. The people were curious, in the U.S., about that article that was written. It said that there was an escape-and-sabotage operation under a prison camp, written by a former _Stars and Stripes_ author. We need what has happened here and what the general public would like to hear."

I nodded my head. So, the General was not only here to gain his information and give it in to London as Witte and Schruss competed for, but he needed this for his propaganda purposes. I hated the lie of this and how much they're going to twist it. I hated the way that Mitchell-Brown was going take this and fool the people who read about us already. I was right to be vague. Why _should_ I tell him anything anyway?

I nodded again and smiled at him, which seemed to ease some of those tension lines on his face. Smiling back at me, I replied, "I will think about this, General Mitchell-Brown. With all due respect due, Sir, with this ordeal and suddenly having to be liberated after being held hostage on the floor with a gun to my head, it has been…interesting and yet so fast-paced. I never expected this to happen at this time. I am not so sure that I can say anything. The excitement has been…invigorating after –"

Mitchell-Brown then, as if he knew where to look, noticed my bulging belly. Shock filled his whole being and it was as if he couldn't speak. No, it was more of an angry shock to his body. He disrupted me rudely. "Colonel Michalovich, you aren't married yet, are you?" His grey hair and piercing blue eyes, which I had just noted, flashed at me. His hair stuck up with this and his eyes…good Lord, they seemed to have witnessed what went through my mind and pictured every moment with Rob. It seemed as if he had become disgusted with what he saw. That voice, however, did startle me and the baby kicked me with this new voice outside.

Rolling my eyes with disrespect, a habit that I had used with Klink, I said, "No, General, we are not married and are planning to do so after we reach the States."

Shaking his head, Mitchell-Brown went to the door, saying over his shoulder as if I were a common criminal going to an execution, "Colonel, you and Colonel Hogan are to be married in four days' time and that's an _order_. You two have been the laughing stock of this man's army for years now. It's about damned time you were wed. Your father agrees with me. I'll talk with you later in London about this place!" And with that, he slammed the door shut, never bothering to dismiss me.

_Good riddance_, I thought with contempt. That character was as hounding as Witte and more demanding than Schruss in his quest for higher favor. He might as well get over the fact that he wasn't getting anything and that Rob and I are not married yet. And he better get over my eye rolling and insolence too because I am going to do it more often if his behavior keeps up. And I don't care if he was the one to help me get out of this army. He better treat me with respect, as an equal, or else!

The worst part about this is, however, is that I am still stuck here and that I have nowhere to go. These rooms have become a prison and no temper is going to get me out.


	12. We Have No Choice Anymore

**May 9  
****Outside Klink's Office – 1134 Hours**

I am finally let out of those quarters even it is for a few hours. The Germans are now controlled as the surrender terms have been signed and released yesterday, the day being marked as V-E (Victory over Europe).

In other news, Barracks 1-8 have been cleared (those are the nearest to the office here) and the men are vaccinated. Nobody has given Mitchell-Brown what he has wanted the most: information. The men who are clear are now in the free sort of (after the General bothers them more), walking around whatever part of the camp they want (except the section where Barracks 9-20 are) and even stepping outside the fence line as free men, not men on a mission for London. They are still watched, they still have to report where they are heading to, if necessary, and they are still being asked what they did during the war. And because there are no answers, then there are no privileges such as walking freer outside the fence and meeting the curious women that come around here sometimes. It is almost as if Klink was still in charge of this paradise, ruling with his iron fist that we stay as we are and only if we gave him what he wanted then we could have certain things comes our way.

In any way, these days have been better for the men, especially Rob. He has been aching to get out of this place since he first walked through those gates, most likely. He has taken every chance he had to step outside the fence and watch along its fence line, taking care not to head out of sight and not giving enough information so that he can leave his men. Rob is dedicated to them. That much I sense as he talked about it yesterday as he was done being poked and prodded at. He had snuck into those quarters while I was sleeping of course (that sneak) and as I woke, I felt his lips brush my forehead. I was fully awake then, watching his face turn from loving to surprise.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he said with some worry in his voice.

"It doesn't matter," I said, kicking the blankets aside. "I think it's about time to get out of this bed anyhow." I looked out the window with its shades and curtains pulled aside and saw the sun high in the sky. "It's about noontime, Rob." _Geez, go and state the over-obvious, Nikki_, I thought to myself, thinking of slapping myself silly for this but stopping. I just swung my legs over and sat at the edge of the bed as Rob told the news of the camp, including what the men are allowed to do at this time and what each has done so far.

"Nobody has given up what work they did here," Rob added with some apprehension to his voice for some reason. "They're quieter than when the Gestapo was here."

_And that says a lot_, I thought. There was silence afterward, without a single thought between us subsequently. I didn't know how to reply, _what _to reply, and was still finding that I was scared senseless of the Gestapo even though their reign of terror is over. I haven't seen Rob's crew of four since Hochstetter came in here last, watching as they saw their Gestapo captors cornered them before being ordered to shoot. I wondered how they fared with their new-found freedom. I bet you that because they have been in the clear that they are trying their best at escaping as far as they could from their liberators or even trying their best at butting off cigarettes and supplies from them.

I could have laughed when I thought of this, but then Rob reminded me something much more serious. I understood what he was referring to when he said, "You know, we have two days now."

"I know," I replied, acknowledging an order that was given to me in those same two days in the past. "There is nothing we can do about it, Rob. There is nothing we could do about it."

There was more silence after that observation. Sunshine could only filter through the room, then touching Rob's dark head and the white strands that remained at his sides. I smiled, trying to make light of the situation at hand (no pub intended), but it is more serious than we thought it was. Marriage…the institution in which we tried so desperately hard to avoid and not to use at all costs if we could. Now, we have treaded down a road we can't turn back on now and there is no other choice other than marriage. It has been thirteen years and that is long enough to wait, old as we are for this. Have we matured more?

Rob matched my smile and fidgeted in his chair. He reached for my hand, which was dangling aimlessly at my side, and took it. Rob said, "This is for everyone's sake. We have no choice anymore." He then dropped my hand, releasing that smile in the embarrassment of our problem and left the room, going out the door to Klink's office.

I was alone again to my thoughts. _Indeed_, I thought, _we have no choice in the matter. What more can we do other than follow orders, deal with it for the rest of our live and continue with what we left behind in the States?_ I swung my legs back into the bed, longing for the warmth of Rob's body, and sighed. Pulling the blankets up to my chin again as I laid back down for a nap, I thought more. _Maybe this isn't going to be as horrendous as we think it's going to be. Maybe, maybe…_


	13. Their Wedding

**May 12  
****Klink's Quarters – 2400 Hours**

My wedding…how could I describe that day in which the feelings of sadness, happiness and somewhat numbness are mixed into one? How can I describe the day in which I thought of those before me who have died and then finding my happiness? Nancy should have been standing there at the makeshift aisle, smiling next to me, laughing about this day and how it was years in the making. Kinch should have been here standing next to Rob, as Jerry, Carter, Newkirk, Baker and LeBeau were, smiling and congratulating us as this day finally came. Yesterday, however, they are on some different plane watching us as Rob and I were married by General Mitchell-Brown in the morning, at 0945 hours.

Our witnesses, the whole camp plus Klink, Schultz and some German guards who stood in the back rows, were gratefully appreciative of the festive occasion and were pleased, as a whole, that with the end of the war came a wedding. Hochstetter and his Gestapo goons, I can say with ease, were not in the scene and were, as Father told me before the wedding. They are currently locked away and watched closely in the cooler.

I recall three days ago, when I was measured for a gown (since my dress uniform was not going to be fitted with my large belly). The white dress that LeBeau and Newkirk created comically, almost as contradictory of my pureness and innocence, flowed from my body as I walked down the dusty aisle. I was barefoot, never caring about the day itself or how I appeared, but that it was done and finished and that we proceed home. Father did lead me down the aisle, as he promised me long ago, and handed my cold hands over to Rob's as we reached the end of the line.

The same white flowers that were covered Nancy's first grave were in my shaking hands, their long stems slipping through my fingers as we were proclaimed a pair and the rings were gone from our necks, its partners on the chains empty of a companion that stayed for far too long and got there much too soon. The waiting was done and those who wished this day to happen are celebrating with glee.

The feast, if you wish to call it that, was full of both sides wishing us all well. Jerry was dancing away with his girlfriend Claudia, who was an agent here in Germany for the Allies although we never worked with her (she was on the other side of Germany and I think that's why). A year or so younger than Jerry, her lush black hair flickered at me as we were introduced yesterday before the wedding. She had heard where Jerry was, what he was doing and came as quickly as she could because of _her_ concern for _his_ safety. Then she heard about the wedding and was eager for this to happen as it was a glorious day after so much.

"I've seen too many men face it," Claudia said, chatting away as she helped me tie the back of my dress with her thin, spidery hands. "This day should be yours. You shouldn't be worried about who passed away, who came your way and what you did during the war. It's the end now and you can worry now about a household of children. Let that be your goal!" She giggled, as a young woman does, and forgot about her former seriousness that she showed me as we were introduced.

Claudia was at my side as my bridesmaid when we were wedded since she was the only woman within my sphere of friends. Afterward, at the festivities, she watched everyone dance to music. I urged her to go too, as she sat with me at the Table of Honor (so Father calls it, laughing as he did). She eyed Jerry merrily making his way to and fro places. I smiled at her, telling her to just ask him for a dance as I noticed her staring at him. She blushed, so childish of her, and darted in Jerry's direction immediately, kicking her chair over and almost knocking the table over as she hurried away.

Smiling as he did all during that day, Rob raised his glass to me, looking smug and triumphant that I saw the last person leave us alone at the table (he was so drunk and was squeezing my leg under the table). All others were in utter and complete celebration, drinking and even seeking out the curious women beyond the fence. Father was entertaining a local widow (one that was his age, thereabouts), talking to her with a silly grin on his old face and a drink in one hand. I knew that this wasn't the next romance as he was drunk and not his usual self (I was also surprised that he remembered his German). His shot of courage was usually spent with the women; usually, he is a recluse and out reading philosophy, essays, poetry and other books.

After Mother, Father's been that way and finding his own comfort with me and his co-patriots, of which I have never seen these days. I _did _ask about Paul, Nicholas and Alexander when I talk to Father yesterday morning, after Claudia laced up my dress and left. His look was as dark as a storm cloud. His reply: "Nikola, this is your day. Do not worry about the past right now, but that of which that is your future."

I took in words with worry for a while until the time we were called out and announced as "The Honorable General Peter Alexis Michalovich and his daughter in marriage, Colonel Nikola Anna Michalovich." That was our cue, our indication to walk out the door of Klink's quarters, into his office and out the door into the sunshine. It was my last battle cry and the last time I will hear it. I will remember it though for as long as I live.

The festivities, with even Schultz and Klink flirting with the women (there was this woman who came in claiming to be Schultz's wife, so _his_ flirting was done before it really began), recalled me to that time of which I will hear that name for the last time, the last I will walk in union with Father and the last time he will see me as his young daughter, battered and broken. That day, and for the rest of my life, I will be a mother, an older daughter in marriage and a wife. From that day onward I will be Nicole Anna Hogan.

I don't know how many times I danced with the men at camp, how many times they complimented me on the color on my face or even how many times Rob and I were toasted. This celebration was to be a blur almost and before I knew it, it was time to herd us to Klink's quarters. Of course Rob and I were sent in here to be together after this grand day. We deserved it after so many years, they said. What a partnership they will form!

"Perhaps that child will be the next Colonel Hogan – a brilliant military mind!" Mitchell-Brown commented to Father when they sent us in here with a company of men behind them, throwing stale rice and flowers that were at my feet when I gave up Rob's ring. They kept the enthusiasm for this time as if we were first time lovers and heading to a wedding bed.

_Oy vey!_ I was thinking when I heard Mitchell-Brown say such a hideous thing about our child. _Is that all you can think of?_

Father smiled, as was his custom to be polite, and replied, "With my daughter around, I think the child will be busy enough. I don't think they need to live up to the memories of such brave parents nor of the souls they led, honored and worked with."

That response was true to my ears. I smiled secretly as Father agreed with me (he added much more than I could think of) and followed an embarrassed and red-faced Rob to these quarters. And right now, that's where we've been. Rob has been sleeping for a few hours and so should I, if only I could. The baby sleeps on and only stirs briefly to turn and twist in a comfortable position, giving me warmth and reassurance when I need it most.

Indeed, I would not want our child to try to live up to our memories, but to be as they could be and to work to their full potential. That is what I would wish at this moment tonight. Well, my only other wish that this marriage be blessed as our bond is and that we are supported by others and warmed by this close companionship.


	14. The Last Days of Stalag 13

**May 17  
****The Barracks – 1832 Hours**

The whole camp has been preparing, at long last, for the final days of the existence of the camp Stalag 13. In five day's time we are leaving the camp with the tunnels collapsed and blown up and the barracks burned to the ground. The liberators are going to be escorting us to the train station where we are to board and head to the coast where a ship awaits us. Afterward, we can head to London and answer for what we have done at Headquarters.

The public, who has sort of known about us, will have their answers to as to what has happened to the Stalag 13 service: you come along and we serve you. That service, through propaganda, will be told about and we will be praised as heroes of the war after the soldiers and veterans.

I don't even _think_ of us as true heroes as the soldiers are. I did what I was told to do, as was everyone else, and we did it well. I don't need to answer for it other than helping our troops.

Today was also the last day we were to see the tunnels, as we are to clean them out. That is why I am here in the barracks. By this time tomorrow, the barracks will suffer another explosion and this time, the tunnels will be closed off forever. This time, they will never be perpetrated again. They were photographed, the equipment thrown out and Klink showed them.

Yes, that was the event of the day: we showed Klink what we did and how we kept his no-escaping record for him. That was another reason I was down there and in the barracks. I was one of those most-involved with the operation with Rob, Carter, Newkirk, Baker (before, Kinch) and LeBeau. Therefore, I am entitled to come down.

Father did follow me down too, for he wanted to see for himself what we have done (he's heard about it and sent messages my way through our Underground system, and the radio once). Schultz has already known what we have done, so there is no need for him to come. Klink, though, was the most ignorant of the bunch and because he was the Kommandant, he has the right to come down. He won that much respect.

The ghosts of the past, as I came down there for the first time in days with Father above me and Klink down before me, haunted me as I recalled everything we did. I could almost see Kinch radioing London in here and Schruss even, echoing his demands down a dusty corridor. Jozef too, I saw him here, calling me a Jewish bitch and later on, eyeing me and telling me, through his tough personality but saddened eyes, that he wanted to live.

As I came down the ladder, Father behind me, I saw these strong personalities and felt them. Klink was being explained what went on and was being shown the tunnels and where they led. Rob was the leader of the pack and, along with Mitchell-Brown and Father after them, Klink followed with a gaping mouth. LeBeau, Baker and Carter were taking equipment upstairs and Newkirk was next to me, striking up a conversation I don't recall at this moment. He, I did remember, lit a cigarette and was teasingly blowing the smoke in my direction. I was laughing about not being able to join him this time.

"Newkirk, why don't you ever help?" Carter complained as he came by us for the fifth time. "You always get the girls." That childish pout that I expected never came from Carter; the comment, of course, was funny.

I laughed again, saying that I needed company and that was a job itself. Newkirk was agreeing with me just as the company of men came back from the tour, Klink shocked and quite pale and shaken. Rob, Mitchell-Brown and then Father had gathered and started a talk that stretched out to another tunnel, the three of them just dropping Klink off and letting him gather his wits. Either that, or Klink was being excluded from such a private conversation that the three had started. They were whispering, after all.

The next moments that happened had scared the reason out of everyone that was here except for the involved: me and Klink.

Klink, as I've said, had been appearing too pale and shocked for his foolhardy self. He had, since the war's end, been quiet about the downfall of the hopeful Third Reich. So, as Carter rejoined Baker and LeBeau in their bringing things up, Newkirk talked about something else, something about London. Again, I wasn't paying attention and was nodding politely to say that I was listening and was interested. Indeed, I wasn't and was much more fascinated with Klink's reaction to all of this: how he wasn't a tough kommandant after all, how he was fooled and how, even, we had bargained and bartered with him for these plans to work out the way we wanted them to.

I saw Klink moving slightly, bending down to pick up something. Nobody was noticing this obviously, since men were moving about, the bigger ones conferencing and another was jabbering at me. I don't know what made Klink does this though, what made him _want_ to do this, but just as I turned my head back to Newkirk to listen about another girl, I felt something being pointed at my head. It felt hard, metallic and cold.

Klink had his gun to my head. He had taken advantage of the somewhat lax security and kept a gun with him.

The shock from everyone in this grave mistake was tremendous even though I wasn't worried. My neck wasn't bothering me and though I was panicking, I knew in my heart that he wasn't going to pull that trigger.

I went to face Klink. I stared at the would-be murderer in the face as Rob, Father and Mitchell-Brown came down from their conference. Rob suddenly said, "Kommandant, put the gun down. It's over and there's nothing you can do. Kommandant –"

"_Nobody_ fools a Klink, Colonel Hogan!" Klink replied, angrily moving his gun to and fro around my head. I rolled my eyes. I was repulsed by this pathetic effort to win some honor.

Newkirk had, meanwhile, backed away (he knew that, as soon as Klink hit me, then he'd go to the next nearest person). Well, we all acknowledge that Klink values his life and his pride and, in remembering to use that as my defense, I said to Klink without fear, "Kommandant, the war is over. There is nothing you can do but admit defeat and live out your life as best as you could. There is no point in shooting me or the others because we have used you most shamefully. It was a part of our _job_ as yours was being the Kommandant of the camp." I sighed. "Besides which, Kommandant Klink, there are over three hundred men up there to shoot you if you even try something fishy. Is it worth it to kill the eight down here and get gunned down by another regiment of men, of which there are three hundred of?"

Of course, I hit the target (no pun intended). Klink trembled, still aiming the gun at me. I sighed, putting my fist under my chin and waited for the idiot to drop it. He did, in time. The gun hit the floor and was immobile once more.

Klink was detained and was ordered up the ladder by Father, where he was to be checked again for weapons and held in a cell until the time of which we leave Stalag 13. There are no charges against him, Schultz and the others (save Hochstetter and his Gestapo goons) because all they did was their duty, even Klink, who was deemed somewhat of a dupe. There is that opinion, still, that he can head home in his disgrace (even after he tried to kill me). They are all, after all, free to go after we leave to live out their lives again. Hopefully, nothing will rise out of this again and nothing as harmless as this can happen again.

Everyone knew I was all right because of the attitude I put up when Klink held up his gun to me. Nobody asked if I was okay, nobody had concerns and nobody told me to sit down and calm down for the sake of the baby. Father did order me to head back up to the barracks to pack up though, making sure that my footlocker is secure and that I am ready to leave by the time he is (he _is_ coming with us, back to London and the U.S. because of amnesty granted to him and I thank G-d!).

Rob nodded with this order, as did Mitchell-Brown, and I did follow through, sitting here now writing and watching as the men jump with excitement. We are truly heading back home at long last. France is free, the Netherlands is free and we are free. The war is over!

I should stop now. Rob wants me to help him pack his things up and bid a fond farewell to the quarters we shared. We are to make sure that we have everything and even the journal volumes I have written. They will come in handy later, I am sure of that, and in the wrong hands, they can be used dreadfully (although I am sure Mitchell-Brown will read them, copied the words and burn it). I think we'll hide them in my clothing. That'll work because General Mitchell-Brown wouldn't think of looking in there. He has been snooping around, of course, and making sure that anything of truth of this operation is destroyed (or given to him) and that all equipment is gone or confiscated by his cronies (also known as those men who follow him no matter what).

"All information must _not_ be in the hands of the public," Mitchell-Brown said to Father yesterday, "and it includes all of the equipment of the operation. There must be no word about the truth about the operation nor can there be these people blabbering about it." He means propaganda and by all means, let them have it if they want to believe it.

Either way, my memories, love, pain and even joy and sorrow are being packed and there isn't a way that it'll be taken away because already, this war has cost us too much and the price tag was too expensive to pay. Mitchell-Brown can't take it away from us.


	15. London, England

**June 2  
****London, England's Headquarters – 2130 Hours**

About a quarter of the camp is here in these cramped Headquarters in London already. We have been here for about a week and a few days now, as it took it _forever_ to get the whole camp, which is over five hundred men, motivated and out of Hammelburg.

Most had taken the chance to leave and never say what they have done during the war. They felt as if they were cheated and that we were being led into another government trap in which we were praised highly and the details hid and the truth never fully told. Others had no wish to say what they wanted just because it was too much of a burden to handle. Over a hundred men are left here to testify that the Stalag 13 operation happened. Mostly, the men are those who worked the most with it and those who wished that perhaps, in some way, it'll be put to good use. Carter, Newkirk, Baker and LeBeau are those in that case. I am here with Rob, of course, because I was working with them or in charge of some missions. My words, my missions and my testimony have been recorded yesterday for prosperity and my times as commander as been well-noted and praised because of _my_ insane planning. Rob has been in and out of the room for two days.

So far, everything has been going well. General Mitchell-Brown is heading this so-called investigation, as I've figured out already, and is the one asking the questions. And this time, there was no way out for me. I had to state my name, rank, serial number and everything that I could remember. Any more details and small facts are to be added later when I recall them to memory obviously.

Well, I gave Mitchell-Brown the satisfaction he wanted and said what I did in the vaguest sketches: how I came to Stalag 13, the circumstances of why I was alone there, my first mission and my last mission (those seemed to be the most memorable), when I was in charge of the men, etc. I didn't even bother to add in my feelings, my fears and what hope I tried to hold out until the end. I didn't cry out the pain I felt then and sometimes now, I didn't say what Rob meant to me and I didn't even describe our relationship.

Mitchell-Brown wanted his information and indeed, he did get what he wanted. I don't know what the others said and I could care less what they said. All that matters to me is how I am to say goodbye to these men. It had taken me, without end, a lot of strength to say it to the other men who left for home already. It was one of the hardest goodbyes that I ever had to endure.

Meanwhile, all else is going well. Our child is doing fine and growing bigger by the day (literally, and everyone has been commenting every other hour). Rob is as busy as ever and a promotion of Major General is in the future because of Stalag 13. Father is also doing fine and spends more time with me because his duties are over. He has retired and is coming back with us to the States, of which I am grateful for (although he has yet to reveal to me where he is going to live). The crew of four is, of course, basking in the sunshine of freedom: Baker has been content with exploring postwar London; Carter has been the same as Baker and just walking about, exploring and trying to see what girls are out there; Newkirk is, as I saw when we hit the port in Southampton, jubilant that we arrived at his homeland and has been almost childlike, revisiting his favorite places in London and meeting the girls that Carter ignores; and LeBeau, as I've heard him before, finds the English barbaric and their food worse. He sulks in the kitchens, trying to change the menu and serve "civilized French food" (his words, not mine) and find the most refined French people here. I laughed at his snobbishness and even offered to keep him company.

"Not if you're with those barbarians," LeBeau replied and walked off.

I know that LeBeau means no offense. He misses his homeland and as soon as those U.S. ceremonies for us are over then he can go home. Of course, that isn't until October, when France is wholly ready for its government to steady itself. After those ceremonies, half truths to the public, then we can go home where we can live out our lives until the next time we can meet, if ever.

I can't believe it…I can hardly believe that I am to say goodbye to these people, the same that have given me confidence, friendship and a phase of life in which I can never forget. Of course, my family is now my chief concern. To me, though, those at Stalag 13 will forever _be_ family to me. I know Rob will feel the same way. How can he bear this up?

~00~

Last night, there was a party among the high-ranking personal and Rob and I were invited to this. Sure, you can say that it was a celebration that it was the end of the war. It was more like to gear the people up and have them more excited over the news that was told. Indeed, the news, to them, was more surprising and was better than they thought. They just felt as if this was the party that rejoiced in peacetime.

I was wearing my first new dress since the war began since (I couldn't fit into my dress uniform, now obsolete to me). Rob was wearing his dress uniform, the same as the wedding, and was appearing calm as he sat in the corner with me, drinking a shot (or more, because of his nervous demeanor) and looking at the exit doorway. He knew what was going to be said anyway.

I knew some of the news since I had told the bearers about it: one was going to be that I was resigning from the U.S. Army, hence my statement about my Army dress-downs being archaic. Generals Milton and Alburtis, quite angry that they couldn't court martial me, were the head of this party. They are quite peeved over the last mission we scratched still. However, they cannot change my decision and accepted this with some elegance. Three days ago was when the papers were signed, my rank left at Colonel and my name and position changed from Colonel Nikola Anna Michalovich, U.S. Army, to Nicole Anna Hogan, U.S. Civilian.

It was the first time in twenty-three years that I was named as a civilian of the U.S. There is no more regret and there is no turning back. My goals are different now than they were when I was nine, ten years old. There is nothing to escape from and there is no eagerness to travel the world and seeing what is out there. There are people out there who I can spend time with and there is the family I love.

It was towards midnight that General Milton tapped his glass and called for attention. Standing, he announced: "There are many congratulations in this war, too many to count!"

There was laughter, disgusting to me because of the comment. It didn't stop Milton from going on. "The men who have worked for us have gone through too many stages of this war and have worked for the bravest men that have led them to victory."

Rob cringed while I staged my disgusted state. Why bring the credit to the commanders? The men worked and they have done the dirty work as the Generals stayed behind to strategize.

Apparently, this introduction was the announcement of Rob's promotion and I didn't realize it until the moment he said "bravest men" and "victory". The applause was deafening and Rob drank it in with unease as he did with his shots. He stood and acknowledged it, smiling and waving. My resignation, and I could care less about the announcement, was ignored mostly when Milton projected it. The greatness of Colonel Hogan being promoted to Major General of the Air Force on Special Intelligence was better for those present, most of whom had no idea what he did.

There are those men who were not acknowledged and given credit. Without them, I don't think Rob would have survived the odds and could have been here at that moment. Without them, there would be no _us_. Whether or not these generals realize it or not is a different story altogether.

It is getting late and I should be sleeping. Rob has already crashed, sleepy from the long day that drained him empty and the drinks that rendered him tired, sluggish and threatening him with a hangover in the morning. I should follow him there, since these days have made me as tired as he is and for much different reasons. The baby is doing fine and is still, sleeping most likely. I have to follow this child's example, but sleep is never coming. My worries about going home are larger than this hypocrisy bit.

**June 5  
****London, England's Headquarters (still) – 1637 Hours**

I think Mitchell-Brown is finishing up his interviews, for the last ten men who didn't peep went into his office today. The others, sadly, have gone home already as soon as they could, as soon as they finished with whatever they wanted to say. Wilson was one of those. This morning, he bid me a fond farewell. He didn't say where to drop a postcard, but I am sure that I will find him somehow. Behind him were Amos, Jacobs, Olsen, Kearns, Karens, Morrison and even Titan, who already said their goodbyes to Rob and were only searching for me.

One after another, I said saluted and said how much it was a pleasure to work with them and to know them although the circumstances were quite dire. They all wished us the best of luck in the future and there were hopes that we would meet again, most likely at the stupid ceremonies at Washington, D.C. that we are to go to.

I was out by Fleet Street when I said my goodbyes to them. I didn't realize that LeBeau was behind me and that was he standing there for a long time. I turned around to head back to Headquarters and there he was.

_Oy vey, what now?_ I thought in irritation as LeBeau looked at me. He indicated Amos to me, who was walking around the corner to his ride to the States, and said, "There goes a great chief's aide."

I laughed, never expecting this complaint that someone was leaving. It took the sadness out of me for sure.

I replied, "I never knew you were _that_ fond of someone, LeBeau."

The little Frenchman, who had kissed me on the checks when we had first met only a few years ago, shrugged his shoulders at me, appearing just as sad as I was that we were leaving each other. He knew what it all meant. It's just a matter of learning to live without your brothers-in-arms that's the hard part.

I smiled and walked away back to Headquarters. There was much more packing to do for in a few more weeks, we were going back home.


	16. Open Arms: Bridgeport, Connecticut

**September 23  
****Home, Bridgeport at last! – 2241 Hours**

I can't believe it. I really can't believe it! This day, September the twenty-third, we have arrived home in Bridgeport at last, landing at port at 0740 hours.

All present and accounted for as we landed: LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk and Baker who are staying with us until October; Father, who has been granted a stay in the U.S.; Jerry and Claudia, who are now engaged to be married within the next year or so; and of course, Rob, myself and our baby son James, who was born on board the ship _Midnight Angel_ on August 7 at 1548 hours.

On the shores and waiting for us to land and to verify that we were all right and alive: Sally, who stood with her children and grandchildren; Jimi (who was discharged from the Navy over a year ago) with Jeanette and their daughters Jeanie, Helga and Nina, and three-month old son, William; Ted and Rose with their twin girls, Inga and Yvette; and Christopher, always the strange one, with his wife Pamela and boys, Tom, Dean and Gregory.

There was a family reunion of all sorts and indeed, I had not seen most of the family since the beginning of the war. I have not heard news of any marriages and children. I don't think that Rob had heard anything either, for he was generally surprised about this enlarging family. James, sleeping in my arms as we landed and never letting out a single sound, would not realize until later how many cousins his age would be able to play with them. I smiled at this. I never had the chance to have so many cousins, or even siblings my own age, so it was most certainly something James is going to enjoy later.

Sally's own sad face (dark for many years and even pale and sickly when I first beheld her) lightened at the company and she even smiled. She hugged Rob, begged to hold James and asked how we were (by looking at her face she knew that we married). She even greeted Father with a hug and a kiss for his safe return, acknowledged the crew of four with smiles and receptions and chided Jerry for such an adventure he had overseas and without parental protection, no doubt! She saw Claudia and was welcoming and friendly to her when Jerry announced that they were marrying soon. A nod of approval from Sally was all Jerry needed. The latter even whooped and twirled Claudia in the air with excitement because he knew what it all meant.

Then there was that walk back to the house. Sally, who stayed behind with the crew of four, was asking them about their adventures (come to think about it, Thomas would not have let her walked with Baker, so her prejudges were less than his). They didn't, with orders from London and even Rob on the personal level, burden her with our dangerous missions around Germany. Instead, they tried talking about the normal prisoner of war routines such as cleaning the camp, working outside the fence being a treat (ha, ha), standing in roll call for a few minutes no matter the time of day or night, playing games and even pulling pranks on Kommandant Klink.

Sally's face, when she heard about the Kommandant, turned into worry. "But wouldn't the Commander of the camp punish you for such deeds?" she asked frantically. "There have been brutal camp commanders before."

"Oh, Kommandant Klink was a 'atsy," Newkirk exclaimed, laughing.

Sally's frantic expression now turned into confusing. "What's this 'atsy'?" she asked.

Baker was now laughing. "Newkirk here means 'patsy'," he said. "The Kommandant was a total sap and almost let us have whatever we wanted."

Sally then relaxed when she realized that we were safer than we were before we were captured. She still hasn't asked yet how we all came together and how we were closer than regular friends. That might come later. There was no time to worry her again and then have to relieve her with stories of how we stuck together, kept our heads out of trouble and put ourselves in the sand before the Allies came. There is no time to tell her the cover-up story of how everyone came to be and how the men bonded themselves together.

I just hope the time isn't soon because of all people, Jerry and Claudia, who kept snickering to themselves as Sally asked about life in the camp. Those two started to laugh and whisper amongst each other. Sally didn't even notice until we reached the house. She then asked what was wrong, coughing as she did. Claudia's answer was a negative one and that ended the subject.

I really should be heading to the shores of sleep right now (I keep saying that and yet, it is never accomplished!). James is cuddled into the old crib and is sleeping peacefully. Rob, meanwhile, has been reading a book and is complaining that I should join him and turn out the light.

"You know, Nikki, there are no nightly calls anymore and there aren't any more roll calls," Rob said as he put down his book and rolled over, covering his eyes from the light.

I'm smiling. As a threesome we are staying in his room (as Claudia as taken mine before moving out with Jerry to her family in Texas). It is peaceful and quiet here. There is not a peep coming from James even. The quiet child who just cried at his birth has turned into the opposite of his initial raucous one as the days past. Even now, I am relieved that he is here and alive and so is Rob (I _am_ selfish). The house is quiet too, for there isn't a noise among the men that came with us. LeBeau and Baker are sharing a room as Carter and Newkirk are, just as they shared bunks at Stalag 13. The rooms are silent and no racket has been heard about some mission, complaints and even some radio message from London.

Father is down the hall as well. He has proclaimed to us at dinner that he is staying here for the week and by this time, in eight days, he is leaving us and heading westward, past Cleveland, and settling some place where he can be no trouble and live out his remaining days.

That time, after I had fed James and he was being cooed over by Pamela and Rose, I looked at Father and saw the small flaws with his plans. Father was not a young man anymore. Indeed, he is only seventy-one years old and surely too old to travel by himself. As his last remaining family member, I feel obligated to be with him, as we had left each other so many times before. I feel the need to be with him in the end of his life. He didn't need to be alone when he has passed away. Oh, if he can just slip out the location of where he is heading, then I will gladly come with him! Rob and I can surely start another life in another place and adjust quite nicely. All I have to do is persuade Rob is to get rid of his noisy motorcycle. Goodness, it's a dirty and noisy thing and if he is as serious as he is right now with his family, then it won't be a problem. Besides, it's been lying out in the backyard for five years now.

Oh, no, James is starting to cry again. And this is just when I was thinking about going to sleep and that he might sleep the night too. Poor Rob! I don't think he'll be gaining anymore sleep than he did at Stalag 13, especially with the baby in our room and a wife who likes to write all night.


	17. The Beginning of the End

**October 1  
****Bridgeport – 1015 Hours**

Father has left this sleepy household late last night to his choice of home, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. In the meantime, the celebrations of our safe homecoming have been continuing. Sally has been overjoyed that all of her children have come home without a scratch (I wouldn't say that exactly) and that there are new grandchildren to enjoy and more guests to take care of. It keeps her busy and it certainly has been easy for her, as most have helped her to clean and cook.

LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk and Baker have been behaving themselves perfectly and have been polite (although LeBeau has been trying to gain access to the kitchens, which he has succeed in doing once yesterday, for breakfast). It is also hard to believe that by the time this month is out, the four of them will be gone, back to their homes. Rob, James and I will have to start anew.

Well, this ceremony, which Sally is so proud so and yet is questioning about, is on October the twenty-third in Washington D.C., in which all of us will be presented, receiving metals for our behavior and Rob will be delivering a speech. That speech has been written by him, with careful words. Already, there have been sincere reassurances from him that there will be something more added to it.

"I just hope that they don't slap the cuffs on you for your casual words," I said to Rob last night as I cuddled behind him when he was sitting there in the bedroom desk, writing when I came in to inquire what he was doing. James was snuggled under his blankets in the crib and was content; there was no need to look after him (besides which, Rob was there).

"There might be a nudge here and there," Rob joked.

After that tease, Rob became serious and intent on finishing up what he was writing. As he wrote on, I read over his shoulder and saw so many crossed-out words. As I moved forward a bit and tried to cover myself in his shoulders, I felt the need to be nosy. I saw as I caught a glimpse of the paper, "There will be justice done to those who have served and gave up their greatest sacrifice to this country" before Rob became possessive with his work and covered up his words.

_Fine_, I thought as I turned my back, saying as I left the room, "Please watch James and feed him when he wakes up." There, another chore for him to do and something that'll keep him busy for a while. _I_ won't be coming up when the baby cries. _He_ can deal with it himself. And _that_ will be punishment enough for Rob.

I went downstairs, as I smelled the leftover food from dinner, and was intent on grabbing a quick bite to eat when I saw Sally in the kitchen.

_Hey, I have a companion_, I thought, but something stopped me. Sally was seated at the small table that was often used to hold upcoming food and some random dirty dishes. She was sitting there and staring into space, still pale of face. I most certainly didn't mean to intrude, but when I opened the swinging door I beheld her.

Apparently, Sally took no notice of me so I took advantage of the situation. Quietly I tiptoed in and touched her thin shoulder. "Sally, are you well?" I asked as she somehow swiveled the chair noisily to face me. I shuddered, hoping that this didn't wake anybody up (it didn't). However, I wanted to hear about how everything was to her and how she was faring. To make her an equal in the conversation, I grabbed the opposite chair and sat down with her.

Sally took her hands into mine when I sat to face her. She looked down, studying the scene on our laps, and said finally, after a lengthy silence, said, "It is nothing, Nikola. It is just…I feel as if everything is done. There is a definite ending in sight someplace. This…war is over and everyone has come home safely and without any serious injuries. I am almost wishing that there was something _new_ and there is. There is a new family emerging and it has consumed me. It is a blessing from G-d and most certainly it is a gift that you all are happily settling down finally. Jerry and Claudia are marrying next year. You and Robert are married, as are Christopher and Pamela, Jimi and Jeanette and Ted and Rose. For me…I don't know what else is there other than my grandchildren. I have ten of them already, the latest being James and William. But what am I to do when you are all gone from here?"

My hands clenched Sally's harder. I felt something older to them and most certainly, when my neck creaked with sadness, I knew that Sally was to pass soon. I just didn't know when. At the time, I already was mourning her loss.

That night, though, was when I tried to put encouraging words into her soul and make her life a little more meaningful. It hasn't been the same since Thomas went into his fits of rage. Indeed it was worse when he died in front of all of us. "Sally, you have been a mother to us all, especially to me," I replied. "You have been there for everyone and are our _lives_. Without you, there is nothing. There is still something more in your life that you can hold unto."

"Nikola, don't fool me," Sally answered rather sharply. "You know that my death is near. I can see it in your face. There is nothing to hide from you and your face has told me a lot these past years."

I have not noticed that. With my hands still in hers, I had to say, "There is a lot more to this than –"

"Then why won't you tell me about what you have done overseas?" Sally wailed with a rare vengeance, making me afraid that James would wake up earlier than I thought. "Why are you and these men being honored so and not those who have served better? You all were in a _prisoner of war camp_!"

Tears came down and I sought to comfort this mother of mine, but Sally turned me away and her thin, sickly hands were out of mine like a shot. She took off from the chair, never turning back from me. She left through the swinging door, leaving it aimlessly going back and forth. I heard her crying and stomping up the stairs, slamming the door to her bedroom shut. I then heard a child's cry: William and James were both crying at this noise.

_Dammit!_ I thought as I ran after Sally and raced up the stairs. Jeanette was already tending to William as she yelled at Jimi to make the girls pipe down as they were rowdy. Rob was complaining about James and how he wasn't quieting down for him. And even the other children gave their parents a hard time (Rose's girls were wobbling about and Ted was giving chase while Christopher's boys were causing a riot and all three knocked into the twin girls).

The whole family and crew were gathering about the second floor and yelling about the noise and what was wrong with Sally. Apparently, some were sleeping (some were sleeping off drinks, more like…not to name anybody or anything) and others were _trying_ to put the children to sleep. With this latest incident, there was barely any hope.

Sally stood alone in her room throughout this sudden outburst. As I took James from Rob and the noise are started to subside, I heard still heard the recognizable sounds of sniffling from her room. I couldn't take it anymore. Her words had torn something in me. It was like what she said, though: it is the end of something, but as she felt like there was no new beginning, I felt a new one. And here, there was too much chaos and the lower floor allowed more quiet. I needed to think!

I took James downstairs away from the noise so he could calm down. We went to the sitting room and settled down in a love seat, comfortable and inviting. It was there that I thought about what the future holds for us…the three of us, I mean: me, Rob and James.

Sitting down in that love seat next to Sally's old piano, I thought about the past. What is here for us? Everyone was splitting after the postwar celebrations were over and leaving Sally here. Only Rob, James and I remain. Even Father is gone and there is not a word about his brothers in Russia. He hasn't stayed long enough to say how happy he was about his family and how thrilled he is about having a grandson.

I imagined myself at that piano as James urged me to feed him. I sighed, opening my shirt decently enough, somewhat careless, and feeling him sucking me dry. I felt something more satisfying. And yet, when I see myself at that piano…what do I see? I leaned backward and relaxed, closing my eyes and recalling every second Sally was with me, as memory allowed me to, teaching me music and telling me how beautiful it was because it was how I vented anger through it.

Was it to be like this again? Was it to be like the old times, in which we were watched all the times together and constantly hounded for details to anything Sally wished for? No, it wasn't. I knew that times will never be the same. There are different priorities and people have changed in the three plus years that we were gone. Even _I_ had changed in the years during the war. It has made me who I am today.

Last night…it gave me something novel to think about. Rob, James and I can't stay here. We have to make our own tracks and head someplace else.

I got up; it was quiet upstairs again and the children and adults were settled down. Sighing and walking upstairs with James still attached to me, I had a thought and this might calm down my spirits.

I went to the bedroom and calmed down enough to lay James to sleep and go myself. As I cuddled into the bed with my baby slumbering in his crib, I planned to ask Rob later about moving to where Father is.

Rob seemed serene today and wasn't worrying about his mother. Sally was even her normal self at breakfast this morning, so I am hoping that, if Rob agrees with me, that somehow, she'll be comfortable with us leaving as she is in a better mood. It might be for another year or so, because I fear for Sally. I want to see her surrounded by us as long as possible. Everyone else is moving far away from her and we are all that is left to her. It is the best we can do for her right now and whenever it is necessary, I can search for a comfortable home in Milwaukee.

Rob and I can move with James and be with Father in his remaining days. We are all becoming older and there is no stopping the turning of the wheel of time and fortune.


	18. Christmas Day, 1945

**Christmas Day, 1945  
****Milwaukee, Wisconsin – 1920 Hours**

The lights from our Christmas tree blink and flicker in my face as I am writing. James is next to my feet, lying on his favorite blanket, rolling around and giggling with glee as he knocks over his blocks that Father gave him for this holiday season. He is only four months old and already showing us that he is growing up too fast. To me, he will always be my little baby who I held for the first time on a ship going home from the war and who lived longer than his older brother did. I no longer fear Death in my children. I am pretty sure that there will be siblings coming behind him. I have been discussing it with Rob. He was laughing

After Rob's laughter had subsided, he said, "Nikki, this is our life now. We can do as we wish and never have to have others separate us unless I am ordered to."

I frowned, remembering that he is still a Major General. Then I thought about how I can deal with it, how the separations will impact us and James. _It couldn't be that hard. It could be bearable,_ I thought as I heard James cry for me in the next room _again_.

So…we are here in Milwaukee with Father. He lives only a block away, so there is always contact with him. He lives within a small home and is happy, with his life, books and family. I always walk to him, talk to him and even bring James. Father is enchanted with James and is always asking if the family is expanding.

_Oy vey, you too!_ I thought as I laughed and said, "Maybe, maybe, I don't know!"

In these conversations, I have learned what he has done since he left…that unmentionable place and the adventures after Stalag 10. Yes, he was an airman and knew about the dynamics of it after he left the U.S. He led his comrades in the Russian Front and flew missions alone. In-between, he worked for mission for the Russian Underground, especially near Germany's Eastern Front. He was captured, transferred and then escaped, doing the same things over and over again. In recent days, I've found that he's aided us at Stalag 13 more than I realized.

I sarcastically and jokingly chided Father about his adventures, but the bright glean in his eyes would always go cold. He was saddened; he had seen so much at the Front as General. When the Front broke free, he marched on, knowing that I was watching for him and the other liberators. He worked onward for me, knowing that I was in danger every moment of my life. He needed me to live.

Father finally mentioned his co-patriots and their ends. He was sobbing so hard that I was disturbed. James had started crying too, leaving me with two people in distress.

Paul, Alexander and Nicholas had followed Father wherever he went, save for Auschwitz and Stalag 10, as he did with the other three. This also included the Russian Front, even though that the other three were as old as Father is.

It was last year, only last year after D-Day, that the weather turned hot and sickness reigned at the Front. Father had been ordered to have his retreating men shoot, as it was the orders of Stalin. He had no desire to do so, but had followed his orders well and honored his country. It didn't matter that it was his friends even, just as long as he followed those orders.

Sobbing, with James in my lap crying and Father's head in my shoulder, Father told me that one day, when the day was unbearable and hot, the Germans became restless and charged them. As Father was behind the lines and with his guards at the machine guns, he watched the battle progress. Paul and Alexander both led small regiments of armies, all under Father, and charged the Germans. They were killed instantly. Nicholas, who was with Father and watching with his aide, scouting the scene in the binoculars, was watching the two as the Germans marched forward and shot the two brothers multiple times.

Before the good Russian men could retreat because of the Germans, Father ordered the machine guns aimed at the Germans, as he doesn't deal with the blood of innocent men on his hands. They aimed true and well and the battle was won with little Russian lives lost, save for the two brothers lost on the battlefield.

It was there, too, that Nicholas broke down. He watched the senseless slaughter. He had gone insane to the point where Father had him replaced. Father also saw that he was safely away and gave him a discharge. He didn't wish to have his last brother killed by his government because he was insane.

Indeed, Father escorted Nicholas, the pessimistic one, back to his home where his young wife, daughters and son awaited him. The family was distressed, especially those children, and cried with shame. Father, always courteous, bid them a fond farewell, turning away so that they could not see the tears running down his face. He could not risk a breakdown as Nicholas had. He carried on as best as he could for his country.

Father, in his deep sadness, gathered his wits when he said so. He said how sorry he was about this war…how he had left me behind before it even started…how he never knew me when I was a child. All the regrets of his life spilled out and his deep scars, never healed, were smoothed over as I reassured him of those things that he can't control. I felt as if there was another weight on my body as I held a whimpering child and an elderly parent in my arms. I was even depressed about these events even after I left Father, searching the Torah for comfort.

Worse news has fallen upon the family, though, and it has turned me back to the past, only two months ago. Yes, I can't believe it, but this time, it was Sally who lost her life to an unknown cause.

It was in October, the eleventh day to be exact. The family was still around the house and was preparing to leave her. Rob, LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk, Baker and I were readying ourselves for the trip to Washington, as the family had expressed their disgust when they were not allowed by the military to come see us.

Rob and I had expressed an interest to leave after the ceremonies and Father, through a phone call from the town, has found us a place for us with enough room. The house has three bedrooms and a small downstairs with a kitchen, sitting room, W.C. and a stove room with a supply of pellets from the previous owner. It was perfect and our quick down payment indicated to Sally that we are going to leave her. I assured her, the day before her death, as I kissed her lovingly goodnight, that I would see to her needs and stay with her to the end, as the others are already except we all knew that it was the closing stages.

I didn't know that it was the last time that I was to talk to her. That night, when I closed the door to her bedroom, _nobody_ knew that she was to die in her sleep. Her peaceful feelings didn't foreshadow it.

The next morning, when Christopher and Jimi noticed her missing from the kitchens and not gleefully cooking as she usually did every morning she was alive, they both awoke the rest of the household. It was 0500 hours in the morning when I heard some crying. When I woke up and saw that it wasn't my little James, I knew that something was wrong.

Rob rolled over and groaned. I tried to sleep on, wishing only that I could have some more of it and ignore the racket outside. I woke up fully when I heard a door click open. I felt Rob rise in the bed and said with some anger, "What is it?"

"Begging the Gov'nor's pardon," I heard Newkirk's voice, quiet and humble. "We are givin' our deepest sympathy at the passin' of your mother."

I was wide awake then and realized, with a deep-cut sadness, that Sally's words that come true. She had died and there was no new beginning for her as she said.

Rob, at that moment, was shocked. He could not rebuke and blame Newkirk for this disruption, especially in a time in which he needed it. Rob just laid there, shocked as I was. I could not say a word.

The men behind Newkirk were in their sorrow. LeBeau, Baker and Carter had their heads bowed in respect, as Newkirk did after the news was released. The family behind them, in the hallway, was in a state of eerie silence and wonderment at this strange event. The children didn't even utter a noise, as their parents kept their peaceful sleep sound before they would break the dam before them. Even James didn't wake from this dreadful news. All I heard was the weeping of Sally's children.

Four days later, Sally was laid to rest in the family crypt at St. Francis Church and was genuinely mourned by all. Her friends of old, who told of her gentleness and acceptance of life, did nothing to lift the burden of sadness from her family or even those who were genuinely mourning for her. Rob, especially, was not at his best, and though he didn't shed as many tears as I did, I knew his pain at this loss and the next step in our lives. It was time, as he told me so many times, to leave the old behind and to start anew.


	19. A Peaceful Life At Last

October the twenty-third came upon us quickly after the funeral and we barely had time to pack up and ready ourselves because of the timing. The settlement of the house, as was planned out by the brothers, was resolved quickly and the house was sold. The money from it was split among all the families, all five of them, and it was a goodly amount that helped Rob start a new life out west.

In the meantime, the others left to their homes and inched further away from the place of sadness, only to promise to meet each other at Jimi and Jeanette's the next September at their home in Florida.

Jerry and Claudia quickly migrated to her home in Texas, Christopher and Pamela moved north to Massachusetts and Rose and Ted went back to California (where Rose had her family to resettle). Rob, James and I were going to Milwaukee after the ceremonies were done, as most of our things were already ahead of us before Sally's death, and to start a path where we went down and didn't choose for ourselves. It came to after walking down a dangerous one and it hasn't been the same ever again. It was as if we were lifted off of that path called Stalag 13 and then plopped onto another one.

Within the week, we were in Washington D.C. with LeBeau, Carter, Newkirk and Baker. Joining us was the remaining members of Stalag 13, of which the whole was here for. All men, over five hundred of them, found this invitation to be a disgrace and yet, they were ordered there lest a scandal ensue. There was no other choice but to do as they said and move on without saying a single word of the deeds we've done.

We were before the fields at the Capital Building when we were introduced, our deeds vaguely spoken of and speeches told. Rob was the last to speak, after all of these metals given out. He strayed off the trail, as he promised me, and as I sat there, after he accepted my metal for me, I felt James squirm and whimper about the crowds before us. He doesn't like too many people, as I have figured, and tried to keep his whines down when his father spoke because I didn't wish to be a distraction and have to leave. It would soon prove to be a problem afterward.

Rob's words that were off the original manuscript touched me and brought to attention what each general and official has been missing from their words of praise: the enlisted men and women who have served much more than we have. We were just a unit in the middle of Germany, under restriction, and we helped to explode, kidnap, rescue and deliver.

Looking up from the original notes and staring out into the eyes of those officials and army personal who came, Rob said, "There are times in which a commander should never receive the credit for which he is honored with. Indeed, should he or she never be told that they are worthy of such. We are the planners of this war, the ones who expect that orders be carried out. Those below us, in which we have barely tasted as we rose in the ranks, have worked for us, respected us and have even been disgusted with us because of our constant arrogance. There are those…"

Here, Rob broke off with shame and grief, and within a few seconds I knew why. "There are those who are there and open themselves up. They served well and have…shown to us that they are more than able to work, interact and even befriend those at the top. They worked unselfishly and never thought of the end that we never imagined for them. It is for them that the greatest sacrifice was given and the cost of freedom and liberty paid in their blood. It is here that we never forget these tears and blood."

Afterward, Rob was then tapped lightly in the shoulder by some other general and an exchange was ensued, causing Rob to get back to the script.

His words were powerful. Before his propaganda purpose was fulfilled, Rob said what he thought and it served us all well. Beside me, LeBeau, Carter, Baker and Newkirk smiled, taking in the credit that their commander had given them. It was thanks to them that the operation was up and running and indeed, will I salute them. They deserve all the thanks they need, which I knew was never to be given by the Head. Screw them, I would have said. However, these thanks _should_ be in order.

It was towards the end of the ceremony that James couldn't take it anymore. Being made to sit still in my lap for three hours was enough for him. Just as Rob was finishing his speech, his whimpers were unbearable and an irritating buzz was in my ears. I had to take him out.

Luckily for me, a captain was more than able and ready to help me escape this tedious drone and get me out of the way so that I can tend to the baby alone. The men of Stalag 13 said their goodbyes without words and I acknowledged them. There was no way to say it all to everyone.

I had to walk away before this becomes a dire scene. I think also, as I was led off, that the Captain knew as well as I did that children were not meant to be here. Indeed, there had been no choice in the matter. I had to bring James. There is no nurse for him but me.

I heard the polite, if irritated, applause of the fellow politicians, officials and military personal as I made my way down the fields to a safer spot away from the people. The Captain had carried my baby bags and had made sure that I was well settled and sitting down on a bench before he went back to the ceremony. He placed the bags on the yellowing grass and had saluted me before leaving. I smiled in response for his help and didn't bother to salute back. I am past that and had full hands.

A cool breeze had whipped lightly through me. As the quiet settled over us, I felt a calm feeling in the child. James was delighted that we were alone and there were no people to stare at us. He felt like he had the right to move and he used it to his advantage, fully squirming in my arms and laughing his silly giggle. I had a control over him afterward and cooed over him, amazed by how fast he has grown – chubby and even taller!

I was lost within my child that I didn't realize the time. It was about half an hour later before Rob, LeBeau, Baker, Newkirk and Carter came to the scene, stony-faced and grim. They knew, as I did, that the ceremony did not go as well as it did.

We all gathered in a group and Rob took James from my arms even though his arms were full of papers, metals and such. I took that from him, giving each a break, and tried to smile at him. It was in vain. There could be no smiling that day.

The seven of us, with James included, were silent. The only noise was coming from the baby and he gave each a grin because of how adorable he showed himself as.

There could no words though and there were no goodbyes. There was silence. How could we comrades say goodbye, though? What words could we say to comfort the other as we leave?

I couldn't take this anymore and could not bear to leave without at least saying a word. I would regret it profoundly. So, without thinking, I asked, "May the sixth every year at Rosemary Back Lane?" The general consensus had been surprise and then recovery to yet another stoic atmosphere. With a nod from each man (minus the baby of course), Rob included, I sighed with relief. I knew it was what Rob wanted to have: to see his brothers-in-arms somehow. It wasn't only a family separation that we had to endure this year, but also one from the comrades we have worked and lived with.

Baker was the first to leave the tightly-knitted group and he was grinning. Next went LeBeau and then Carter and Newkirk, with their arms entwined in a sort of hug. Once at a distance, they separated and went in different directions. They all never looked back to us as we stood.

Rob stared after them for a while before a time pasted. I was aware of the time was more concerned for James because he was restless and needing a nap. We needed to go back to the hotel, pack and head to our new home as soon as we could.

Tapping Rob's shoulder I said, "Rob, we have to go." I felt some tears in my eyes, with some irritation. "Rob, please, we have to be ready to leave by tomorrow. James needs to be rested."

With his son in his arms, Rob replied to me without turning to face me, "I know, Nikki."

It was all Rob said. It was _all_ he could say in his grief. He lost the men who served him and it was the end he wished for. They were alive, I was alive and we have a family now. His greatest wishes came true…if _only_ his family didn't leave and his brothers didn't have to be separated from him. The bond was so strong.

Rob put James in his left arm, as he has gotten so used to and could do safely, and with his right hand, he saluted the men about him, whether they be his or those who served in the war on all sides. It didn't matter, just as long as they served.

I grieved with him at the loss, but when I went to stand by him saluting, I saw a tear run down his cheek. Before I knew it, there were more of them. Rob was crying…_Rob was crying_ at this awful war and the loss of such faithful men. His son, although too young to remember, was at his side and witnessed the first time his father cried.

These past months here have been a blessing and I feel lucky. I have my own home, I have my family and my greatest wish has come true: that we are here alive. And as I close this entry late on this Christmas Day, the first here since the war began, I listen to our son giggle with happiness. It is his first Christmas in this world and it has been good. Rob is slumped on the other side of this sitting room, sleeping with old sweater over his enlarging frame and his old Colonel's hat over his face to hide his sleepy state. It is comical. When this scene happened to be, I wouldn't know, as he wasn't there when I started writing. He was in the kitchen drinking a shot or three since I hadn't been able to have one with him. That was my choice. James is my life now. I think I can stop those childish things I used to do before and during the war. I left the morose, drunk and smoking Nikki at Stalag 13 and a hopeful, cheery and thoughtful one has emerged.

Tonight, when I put the sleepy James into his crib and kiss him goodnight on this peaceful and chilly evening, I will recall those who never came home and their families that will never see them again…never laugh with them, or even enjoy this joyous season with them. It was the war in Europe and Asia that halted their lives, but the memories remain intact and often viewed in our minds and hearts, for many years to come.

Goodnight and may G-d rest your souls on this starry evening.


End file.
